GREAT 


EMERGENCY 

BY 


JULIANA 

HORATIA 
EWING 


COSY  CORNER  SERIES 


LIBS. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

Education 
GIFT  OF 

Louise  Farrow  Barr 


A  GREAT    EMERGENCY 


THE   GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


A  GREAT  EMERGENCY 


BY 

JULIANA   HORATIA   EWING 

AUTHOR  OF  "JACKANAPES," 
"THE  STORY  OF  A  SHORT  LIFE,"  ETC. 


E.    B.    BARRY 


BOSTON 
L.  C.  PAGE   AND   COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

1897 


Copyright,  1897 

L.  C.   PACK  AND  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

Education 
Add'l 
GIFT 


Colonial 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CHAPTER 

I.    RUPERT'S     LECTURES.  —  THE 

LEATHER  BOOK 


OLD   YELLOW 


II.     HENRIETTA.  —  A  FAMILY  CHRONICLE.  —  THE 

SCHOOL    MIMIC.  —  MY    FIRST   FIGHT 

III.  SCHOOL  CRICKET.  — LEMON-KALI. — THE  BOYS' 

BRIDGE.  —  AN    UNEXPECTED    EMERGENCY 

IV.  A  DOUBTFUL  BLESSING.  —  A  FAMILY  FAILING. 

—  OLD    BATTLES.  —  THE    CANAL-CARRIER'S 
HOME 

V.    THE  NAVY  CAPTAIN.  —  SEVEN  PARROTS  IN  A 

FUSCHIA-TREE. THE  HARBOR    LION    AND 

THE  SILVER  CHAIN.  —  THE  LEGLESS  GIANTS. 

—  DOWN  BELOW.  —  JOHNSON'S  WHARF 

VI.  ST.  PHILIP  AND  ST.  JAMES.  —  THE  MONKEY- 
BARGE  AND  THE  DOG.  —  WAR,  PLAGUE,  AND 
FIRE.  —  THE  DULLNESS  OF  EVERY-DAY  LIFE. 


10 


35 


43 


344 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PACK 

VII.      WE    RESOLVE   TO    RUN    AWAY.  —  SCRUPLES.  — 

BABY  CECIL.  —  I  PREPARE.  —  I  RUN  AWAY  .      65 

VIII.       WE    GO    ON    BOARD.  —  THE    PIE.  —  AN    EXPLO- 
SION. —  MR.     ROWE,    THE    BARGEMASTER. — 

THE  WHITE  LION.  — Two  LETTERS.  — WE 
DOUBT  MR.  ROWE'S  GOOD  FAITH.  .  .  78 

IX.      A    COASTING   VOYAGE.  —  MUSK   ISLAND.  —  LlN- 

NET   FLASH.— MR.   ROWE   AN   OLD  TAR. — 

THE    DOG-FANCIER   AT    HOME  ...         89 

X.    LOCKS.  —  WE  THINK  OF  GOING  ON  THE  TRAMP. 

—  PYEBRIDGE.  —  WE  SET  SAIL     .        .        .     100 
XL     MR.  ROWE  ON   BARGE-WOMEN.  —  THE  RIVER. 

—  NINE  ELMS.  —  A    MYSTERIOUS  NOISE. — 

ROUGH    QUARTERS.  —  A    CHEAP    SUPPER. 

JOHN'S   BERTH.  —  WE    MAKE  OUR  ESCAPE. 

—  OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      ....     IO7 
XII.     EMERGENCIES  AND  POLICEMEN.  —  FENCHURCH 

STREET  STATION.  —  THIRD  CLASS  TO  CUS- 
TOM HOUSE.  —  A  SHIP  FOREST  .  .  .122 

XIII.  A  DIRTY  STREET. —  A  BAD  BOY.  —  SHIPPING 
AND  MERCHANDISE.  —  WE  STOW  AWAY  ON 
BOARD  THE  "  ATALANTA."  —  A  SALT  TEAR.  129 

XIV.      A     GLOW     ON    THE    HORIZON.  —  A     FANTASTIC 

PEAL. —  WHAT  I  SAW  WHEN  THE  ROOF  FELL 

IN 14? 

XV.     HENRIETTA'S  DIARY.  —  A  GREAT  EMERGENCY  .     153 
XVI.     MR.  ROWE  ON  THE  SUBJECT.  —  OUR  COUSIN. 
—  WESTON  GETS  INTO  PRINT.  —  THE  HAR- 
BOR'S MOUTH.  —  WHAT  LIES  BEYOND.        .    159 


PACK 

Frontispiece 


THE  GREAT   EMERGENCY 

"SHE    RODE  THE    PONY    BAREBACKED" 

"I  GOT  HENRIETTA  TO  ...  BOX  WITH  ME"      . 

"  THE  FIELD   .   .   .   WAS  ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  CANAL" 
"BABY   CECIL  CAME  RUNNING  AFTER   ME". 
ON   THE  CANAL 

"CAN     YOU     GET     US    ANYTHING  —  RATHER    CHEAP  — 

FOR   SUPPER?" 

"  VY,    I   THOUGHT  YOU   WOS   SWELLS !"  .  I;?I 

"STRONG   HANDS   LIFTED  THE  TARPAULIN    FROM   OUR 

HEADS" .... 

«<GO   DOWN   ON   ALL  FOURS,  HENNY,'  SAID  RUPERT  »      I  $6 


13 
31 

37 
75 
97 

IIS 


A  GREAT   EMERGENCY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

RUPERT'S  LECTURES. —  THE  OLD  YELLOW 
LEATHER  BOOK. 

WE  were  very  happy, —  Rupert,  Henrietta, 
Baby  Cecil,  and  I.  The  only  thing  we  found 
fault  with  in  our  lives  was  that  there  were  so 
few  events  in  them. 

It  was  particularly  provoking  because  we 
were  so  well  prepared  for  events,  —  any  events. 
Rupert  prepared  us.  He  had  found  a  fat  old 
book  in  the  garret,  bound  in  yellow  leather,  at 
the  end  of  which  were,  "  Directions  how  to  act 
with  presence  of  mind  in  any  emergency  ; " 
and  he  gave  lectures  out  of  this  in  the  kitchen 
garden. 

Rupert  was  twelve  years  old.  He  was  the 
eldest.  Then  came  Henrietta,  then  I,  and 


2  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

last  of  all  Baby  Cecil,  who  was  only  four. 
The  day  I  was  nine  years  old,  Rupert  came 
into  the  nursery,  holding  up  his  handsome 
head  with  the  dignified  air  which  became  him 
so  well  that  I  had  more  than  once  tried  to 
put  it  on  myself  before  the  nursery  looking- 
glass,  and  said  to  me,  "  You  are  quite  old 
enough  now,  Charlie,  to  learn  what  to  do  what- 
ever happens ;  so  every  half -holiday,  when  I 
am  not  playing  cricket,  I'll  teach  you  pres- 
ence of  mind,  near  the  cucumber-frame,  if 
you're  punctual.  I've  put  up  a  bench." 

I  thanked  him  warmly,  and  the  next  day  he 
put  his  head  into  the  nursery  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  said,  "  The  lecture." 

I  jumped  up,  and  so  did  Henrietta. 

"  It's  not  for  girls,"  said  Rupert ;  "  women 
are  not  expected  to  do  things  when  there's 
danger." 

"  We  take  care  of  them"  said  I,  wondering 
if  my  mouth  looked  like  Rupert's  when  I  spoke, 
and  whether  my  manner  impressed  Henrietta 
as  much  as  his  impressed  me.  She  sat  down 
again  and  only  said,  "  I  stayed  in  all  Friday 
afternoon,  and  worked  in  bed  on  Saturday 
morning,  to  finish  your  net." 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  3 

"Come  along,"  said  Rupert.  "Yrm  know 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  net ;  it's 
a  splendid  one." 

"  111  bring  a  camp-stool  if  there's  not  room 
on  the  bench,"  said  Henrietta  cheerfully. 

"  People  never  take  camp-stools  to  lectures," 
said  Rupert,  and  when  we  got  to  the  cucumber- 
frame,  we  found  that  the  old  plank,  which  he 
had  raised  on  inverted  flower-pots,  would  have 
held  a  much  larger  audience  than  he  had  invited. 
Opposite  to  it  was  a  rhubarb-pot,  with  the  round 
top  of  a  barrel  resting  on  it.  On  this  stood  a 
glass  of  water.  A  delightful  idea  thrilled  through 
me,  suggested  by  an  imperfect  remembrance  of  a 
lecture  on  chemistry  which  I  had  attended. 

"  Will  there  be  experiments  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"I  think  not,"  Henrietta  replied.  "There 
are  glasses  of  water  at  the  missionary  meet- 
ings, and  there  are  no  experiments." 

Meanwhile,  Rupert  had  been  turning  over 
the  leaves  of  the  yellow  leather  book.  To 
say  the  truth,  I  think  he  was  rather  nervous ; 
but  if  we  have  a  virtue  among  us  it  is  that  of 
courage ;  and,  after  dropping  the  book  twice, 
and  drinking  all  the  water  at  a  draught,  he 
found  his  place,  and  began, 


4  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"How  to  act  in  an  emergency." 

"  What's  an  emergency  ?  "  I  asked.  I  was 
very  proud  of  being  taught  by  Rupert,  and 
anxious  to  understand  everything  as  we  went 
along. 

"You  shouldn't  interrupt,"  said  Rupert, 
frowning.  I  am  inclined  now  to  think  that 
he  could  not  answer  my  question  off-hand ;  for 
though  he  looked  cross  then,  after  referring 
to  the  book  he  answered  me,  "  It's  a  fire,  or 
drowning,  or  an  apoplectic  fit,  or  anything 
of  that  sort."  After  which  explanation  he 
hurried  on.  If  what  he  said  next  came  out 
of  his  own  head,  or  whether  he  had  learned 
it  by  heart,  I  never  knew. 

"There  is  no  stronger  sign  of  good-breed- 
ing than  presence  of  mind  in  an  — 

"Apoplectic  fit,"  I  suggested.  I  was  giving 
the  keenest  attention,  and  Rupert  had  hesitated, 
the  wind  having  blown  over  a  leaf  too  many  of 
the  yellow  leather  book. 

"An  emergency!"  he  shouted,  when  he  had 
found  his  place.  "  Now  we'll  have  one  each 
time.  The  one  for  to-day  is,  how  to  act  in 
a  case  of  drowning." 

To  speak  the  strict  truth,  I  would  rather  not 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  5 

have  thought  about  drowning.  I  had  my  own 
private  horror  over  a  neighboring  mill-dam,  and 
I  had  once  been  very  much  frightened  by  a 
spring  tide  at  the  sea  ;  but  cowardice  is  not  an 
indulgence  for  one  of  my  race,  so  I  screwed  up 
my  lips  and  pricked  my  ears  to  learn  my  duty 
in  the  unpleasant  emergency  of  drowning. 

"  It  doesn't  mean  being  drowned  yourself," 
Rupert  continued,  "but  what  to  do  when  an- 
other person  has  been  drowned." 

The  emergency  was  undoubtedly  easier,  and 
I  gave  a  cheerful  attention  as  Rupert  began  to 
question  us. 

"  Supposing  a  man  had  been  drowned  in  the 
canal,  and  was  brought  ashore,  and  you  were 
the  only  people  there,  what  would  you  do  with 
him  ? " 

I  was  completely  nonplussed.  I  felt  quite 
sure  I  could  do  nothing  with  him,  he  would  be 
so  heavy ;  but  I  felt  equally  certain  that  this 
was  not  the  answer  which  Rupert  expected,  so 
I  left  the  question  to  Henrietta's  readier  wit. 
She  knitted  her  thick  eyebrows  for  some  min- 
utes, partly  with  perplexity,  and  partly  because 
of  the  sunshine  reflected  from  the  cucumber- 
frame,  and  then  said,  — 


6  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"  We  should  bury  him  in  a  vault ;  Charlie 
and  I  couldrit  dig  a  grave  deep  enough." 

I  admired  Henrietta's  foresight,  but  Rupert 
was  furious. 

"  How  silly  you  are  !  "  he  exclaimed,  knock- 
ing over  the  top  of  the  rhubarb-pot  table  and  the 
empty  glass  in  his  wrath.  "  Of  course  I  don't 
mean  a  dead  man.  I  mean  what  would  you  do 
to  bring  a  partly-drowned  man  to  life  again  ?" 

"That  wasn't  what  you  said"  cried  Henri- 
etta, tossing  her  head. 

"  I  let  you  come  to  my  lecture,"  grumbled 
Rupert  bitterly,  as  he  stooped  to  set  his  table 
right,  "and  this  is  the  way  you  behave !  " 

"I'm  very  sorry,  Rupert,  dear,"  said  Henri- 
etta. "  Indeed,  I  only  mean  to  do  my  best,  and 
I  do  like  your  lecture  so  very  much  ! " 

"So  do  I,"  I  cried,  "very,  very  much!" 
And  by  a  simultaneous  impulse  Henrietta  and 
I  both  clapped  our  hands  vehemently.  This 
restored  Rupert's  self-complacency,  and  he 
bowed  and  continued  the  lecture.  From  this 
we  learned  that  the  drowned  man  should  be 
turned  over  on  his  face,  to  let  the  canal  water 
run  out  of  his  mouth  and  ears,  and  that  his  wet 
clothes  should  be  got  off,  and  he  should  be 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  7 

made  dry  and  warm  as  quickly  as  possjble,  and 
placed  in  a  comfortable  position,  with  the  head 
and  shoulders  slightly  raised.  All  this  seemed 
quite  feasible  to  us.  Henrietta  had  dressed 
and  undressed  lots  of  dolls,  and  I  pictured 
myself  filling  a  hot-water  bottle  at  the  kitchen 
boiler  with  an  air  of  responsibility  that  should 
scare  all  lighter-minded  folk.  But  the  directions 
for  "  restoring  breathing"  troubled  our  sincere 
desire  to  learn  ;  and  this,  even  though  Henri- 
etta practised  for  weeks  afterwards  upon  me. 
I  represented  the  drowned  man,  and  she  drew 
my  arms  above  my  head  for  "inspiration"  and 
counted  "one,  two;"  and  doubled  them  and 
drove  them  back  for  "expiration;"  but  it 
tickled,  and  I  laughed,  and  we  could  not  feel 
at  all  sure  that  it  would  have  made  the  drowned 
man  breathe  again. 

Meanwhile,  Rupert  went  on  with  the  course 
of  lectures,  and  taught  us  how  to  behave  in  the 
events  of  a  fire  in  the  house,  an  epidemic  in  the 
neighborhood,  a  bite  from  a  mad  dog,  a  chase 
by  a  mad  bull,  broken  limbs,  runaway  horses, 
a  chimney  on  fire,  or  a  young  lady  burning  to 
death.  The  lectures  were  not  only  delightful 
in  themselves,  but  they  furnished  us  with  a 


8  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

whole  set  of  new  games,  for  Henrietta  and 
I  zealously  practised  every  emergency  as  far 
as  the  nature  of  things  would  allow.  Covering 
our  faces  with  wet  cloths  to  keep  off  the  smoke, 
we  crept  on  our  hands  and  knees  to  rescue  a 
fancy  cripple  from  an  imaginary  burning  house, 
because  of  the  current  of  air  which,  Rupert  told 
us,  was  to  be  found  near  the  floor.  We  fastened 
Baby  Cecil's  left  leg  to  his  right  by  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  at  the  ankle,  and  above  and  below 
the  knee,  pretending  that  it  was  broken,  and 
must  be  kept  steady  till  we  could  convey  him 
to  the  doctor.  But  for  some  unexplained  reason 
Baby  Cecil  took  offence  at  this  game,  and  I  do 
not  think  he  could  have  howled  and  roared 
louder  under  the  worst  of  real  compound  frac- 
tures. We  had  done  it  so  skilfully  that  we 
were  greatly  disgusted  by  his  unaccommodating 
spirit  and  his  obstinate  refusal  to  be  put  into 
the  litter  we  had  made  out  of  Henrietta's  stilts 
and  a  railway  rug.  We  put  a  Scotch  terrier  in 
instead  ;  but  when  one  end  of  the  litter  gave 
way  and  he  fell  out,  we  were  not  sorry  that  the 
emergency  was  a  fancy  one,  and  that  no  broken 
limbs  were  really  dependent  upon  our  well- 
meant  efforts. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  Q 

There  was  one  thing  about  Rupert's  lectures 
which  disappointed  me.  His  emergencies  were 
all  things  that  happened  in  the  daytime.  Now 
I  should  not  have  liked  the  others  to  know 
that  I  was  ever  afraid  of  anything  ;  but,  really 
and  truly,  I  was  sometimes  a  little  frightened 
—  not  of  breaking  my  leg,  or  a  house  on  fire, 
or  an  apoplectic  fit,  or  anything  of  that  sort, 
but  —  of  things  in  the  dark.  Every  half  holi- 
day I  hoped  there  would  be  something  about 
what  to  do  with  robbers  or  ghosts,  but  there 
never  was.  I  do  not  think  there  can  have  been 
any  emergencies  of  that  kind  in  the  yellow 
leather  book. 

On  the  whole,  I  fancy  Rupert  found  us  sat- 
isfactory pupils,  for  he  never  did  give  up  the 
lectures,  in  a  huff,  though  he  sometimes  threat- 
ened to  do  so,  when  I  asked  stupid  questions, 
or  Henrietta  argued  a  point. 


CHAPTER    II. 

HENRIETTA. A        FAMILY        CHRONICLE.  THE 

SCHOOL    MIMIC.  —  MY    FIRST    FIGHT. 

HENRIETTA  often  argued  points,  which  made 
Rupert  very  angry.  He  said  that  even  if  she 
were  in  the  right,  that  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it,  for  girls  oughtn't  to  dispute  or  discuss. 
And  then  Henrietta  argued  that  point  too. 

Rupert  and  Henrietta  often  squabbled,  and 
always  about  the  same  sort  of  thing.  I  am 
sure  he  would  have  been  very  kind  to  her  if  she 
would  have  agreed  with  him,  and  done  what  he 
wanted.  He  often  told  me  that  the  gentlemen 
of  our  family  had  always  been  courteous  to 
women,  and  I  think  he  would  have  done  any- 
thing for  Henrietta  if  it  had  not  been  that  she 
would  do  everything  for  herself. 

When  we  wanted  to  vex  her  very  much,  we 
used  to  call  her  "  Monkey,"  because  we  knew 
she  liked  to  be  like  a  boy.  She  persuaded 

10 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  II 

Mother  to  let  her  have  her  boots  made  like 
ours,  because,  she  said,  the  roads  were  so  rough 
and  muddy  (which  they  are).  And  we  found 
two  of  her  books  with  her  name  written  in,  and 
she  had  put  "  Henry,"  and  Rupert  wrote  Etta 
after  it,  and  "  Monkey"  after  that.  So  she 
tore  the  leaves  out.  Her  hair  was  always  com- 
ing out  of  curl.  It  was  very  dark,  and  when  it 
fell  into  her  eyes  she  used  to  give  her  head  a 
peculiar  shake  and  toss,  so  that  half  of  it  fell 
the  wrong  way,  and  there  was  a  parting  at  the 
side,  like  our  partings.  Nothing  made  Rupert 
angrier  than  this. 

Henrietta  was  very  good  at  inventing  things. 
Once  she  invented  a  charade  quite  like  a 
story.  Rupert  was  very  much  pleased  with  it, 
because  he  was  to  act  the  hero,  who  was  to  be 
a  young  cavalier  of  a  very  old  family  —  our 
family.  He  was  to  arrive  at  an  inn  ;  Henrietta 
made  it  the  real  old  inn  in  the  middle  of  the 
town,  and  I  was  the  innkeeper,  with  Henrietta's 
pillow  to  make  me  fat,  and  one  of  Nurse's  clean 
aprons.  Then  he  was  to  ask  to  spend  a  night 
in  the  old  castle,  and  Henrietta  made  that  the 
real  Castle,  which  was  about  nine  miles  off,  and 
which  belonged  to  our  cousin,  though  he  never 


12  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

spoke  to  us.  And  a  ghost  was  to  appear,  —  the 
ghost  of  the  ancestor  in  the  miniature  in 
Mother's  bedroom.  Henrietta  did  the  ghost 
in  a  white  sheet ;  and  with  her  hair  combed, 
and  a  burnt  cork  mustache,  she  looked  so 
exactly  like  the  picture  that  Rupert  started 
when  she  came  in,  and  stared ;  and  Mother 
said  he  had  acted  splendidly. 

Henrietta  was  wonderfully  like  the  picture. 
Much  more  like  than  Rupert  ever  was,  which 
rather  vexed  him,  because  that  ancestor  was 
one  of  the  very  bravest,  and  his  name  was 
Rupert.  He  was  rather  vexed,  too,  when  she 
rode  the  pony  bare-backed  which  had  kicked 
him  off.  But  I  think  the  pony  was  fonder  of 
Henrietta,  which  perhaps  made  it  easier  for  her 
to  manage  it.  She  used  to  feed  it  with  bits  of 
bread.  It  got  them  out  of  her  pocket. 

One  of  the  things  Henrietta  could  not  do  as 
well  as  Rupert  was  cricket.  Rupert  was  one  of 
the  best  players  in  the  school.  Henrietta  used 
to  want  to  play  with  us  at  home,  and  she  and  I 
did  play  for  a  bit,  before  breakfast,  in  the  dry- 
ing-ground ;  but  Rupert  said,  if  I  encouraged 
her  in  being  unladylike,  he  would  not  let  me 
come  to  the  school  matches.  He  said  I  might 


SHE  RODE  THE  PONY  BAREBACKED." 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  15 

take  my  choice,  and  play  either  with  girls  or 
boys,  but  not  with  both.  But  I  thought  it 
would  be  very  mean  to  leave  Henrietta  in  the 
lurch.  So  I  told  her  I  would  stick  by  her,  as 
Rupert  had  not  actually  forbidden  me.  He  had 
given  me  my  choice,  and  he  always  kept  his 
word.  But  she  would  not  let  me.  She  pre- 
tended that  she  did  not  mind ;  but  I  knew  she 
did,  for  I  could  see  afterwards  that  she  had 
been  crying.  However,  she  would  not  play, 
and  Mother  said  she  had  much  rather  she  did 
not,  as  she  was  so  afraid  of  her  getting  hit  by  the 
ball.  So  that  settled  it,  and  I  was  very  glad  not 
to  have  to  give  up  going  to  the  school  matches. 

The  school  we  went  to  was  the  old  town 
grammar  school.  It  was  a  very  famous  one ; 
but  it  was  not  so  expensive  as  big  public  schools 
are,  and  I  believe  this  was  why  we  lived  in  this 
town  after  my  father's  death,  for  Mother  was 
not  at  all  rich. 

The  grammar  school  was  very  large,  and  there 
were  all  sorts  of  boys  there  —  sons  of  gentle- 
men, and  tradesmen,  and  farmers.  Some  of  the 
boys  were  so  very  dirty,  and  had  such  horrid 
habits  out  of  school,  that  when  Rupert  was 
thirteen,  and  I  was  ten,  he  called  a  council  at 


1 6  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

the  beginning  of  the  half,  and  a  lot  of  the  boys 
formed  a  committee  and  drew  up  the  code  of 
honor,  and  we  all  subscribed  to  it. 

The  code  of  honor  was  to  forbid  a  lot  of 
things  that  had  been  very  common  in  the 
school :  lying,  cheating  over  bargains,  telling 
tales,  bragging,  bad  language,  and  what  the  code 
called  "  conduct  unbecoming  schoolfellows  and 
gentlemen."  There  were  a  lot  of  rules  in  it, 
too,  about  clean  nails,  and  shirts,  and  collars, 
and  socks,  and  things  of  that  sort.  If  any  boy 
refused  to  agree  to  it,  he  had  to  fight  with 
Thomas  Johnson. 

There  could  not  have  been  a  better  person 
than  Rupert  to  make  a  code  of  honor.  We 
have  always  been  taught  that  honor  was  the 
watchword  of  our  family  —  dearer  than  any- 
thing that  could  be  gained  or  lost,  very  much 
dearer  than  mere  life.  The  motto  of  our  arms 
came  from  an  ancestor  who  lost  the  favor  of 
the  King  by  refusing  to  do  something  —  against 
his  conscience  —  for  which  he  would  have  been 
rewarded.  It  is,  "  Honor  before  honors." 

I  can  just  remember  the  man,  with  iron-gray 
hair  and  gold  spectacles,  who  came  to  our  house 
after  my  father's  death.  I  think  he  was  a 


A     GREAT    EMERGENCY.  If 

lawyer.  He  took  lots  of  snuff,  so  ~that  Hen- 
rietta sneezed  when  he  kissed  her,  which  made 
her  very  angry.  He  put  Rupert  and  me  in 
front  of  him,  to  see  which  of  us  was  most  like 
my  father,  and  I  can  recall  the  big  pinch  of 
snuff  he  took,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  say- 
ing, "  Be  like  your  father,  boys !  He  was  as 
good  as  he  was  gallant.  And  there  never  lived 
a  more  honorable  gentleman." 

Every  one  said  the  same.  We  were  very 
proud  of  it,  and  always  boasted  about  our 
father  to  the  new  nursemaids,  or  any  other 
suitable  hearer.  I  was  a  good  deal  annoyed 
by  one  little  maid,  who,  when  I  told  her,  over 
our  nursery  tea,  that  my  father  had  been  the 
most  honorable  of  men,  began  to  cry  about  her 
father,  who  was  dead  too,  and  said  he  was  "just 
the  same ;  for  in  the  one  and  twenty  years  he 
kept  a  public-house,  he  never  put  so  much  as  a 
pinch  of  salt  into  the  beer,  nor  even  a  gill  of 
water,  unless  it  was  in  the  evening  at  fair-time, 
when  the  only  way  to  keep  the  men  from  fight- 
ing was  to  give  them  their  liquor  so  that  it 
could  not  do  them  much  harm."  I  was  very 
much  offended  by  the  comparison  of  my  father, 
who  was  an  officer  and  a  gentleman  of  rank, 


1 8  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

with  her  father,  who  was  a  village  publican  ; 
but  I  should  like  to  say  that  I  think  now  that 
I  was  wrong  and  Jane  was  right.  If  her  father 
gave  up  profit  for  principle,  he  was  like  my 
father,  and  like  the  ancestors  we  get  the  motto 
from,  and  like  every  other  honorable  man,  of 
any  rank  or  any  trade. 

Every  time  I  boasted  in  the  nursery  of  my 
father  being  so  honorable,  I  always  finished 
by  saying,  that  that  was  why  he  had  the  word 
Honorable  before  his  name,  as  men  in  old  times 
used  to  be  called  "the  Good,"  or  "the  Lion 
Heart."  The  nursemaids  quite  believed  it, 
and  I  believed  it  myself,  till  the  first  week  I 
went  to  school. 

It  makes  me  hot  all  over  to  remember  what 
I  suffered  that  week,  and  for  long  afterwards. 
But  I  think  it  cured  me  of  bragging,  which 
is  a  mean,  ungentlemanly  habit,  and  of  telling 
everybody  everything  about  myself  and  my 
relations,  which  is  very  weak-minded. 

The  second  day  I  was  there,  one  of  the 
boys  came  up  to  me  and  said,  with  a  mock 
ceremony  and*  politeness  which  unfortunately 
took  me  in,  "  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  sir,  that 
esteemed  lady,  your  mother,  is  an  Honorable?" 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  1 9 

He  was  nearly  five  years  older  ttiatv  I ;  his 
name  was  Weston  ;  he  had  a  thin,  cadaverous 
face,  a  very  large  nose,  and  a  very  melancholy 
expression.  I  found  out  afterwards  that  he 
was  commonly  called  "  the  Clown,"  and  was 
considered  by  boys  who  had  been  to  the 
London  theatres  to  surpass  the  best  profes- 
sional comic  actors,  when  he  chose  to  put 
forth  his  powers.  I  did  not  know  this  then. 
I  thought  him  a  little  formal,  but  particularly 
courteous  in  his  manner,  and  not  wishing  to 
be  behindhand  in  politeness,  I  replied,  with  as 
much  of  his  style  as  I  could  assume,  "  Cer- 
tainly, sir.  But  that  is  because  my  father  was 
an  Honorable.  My  father,  sir,  was  the  most 
honorable  of  men." 

A  slight  spasm  appeared  to  pass  over  Wes- 
ton's  face,  and  then  he  continued  the  conver- 
sation in  a  sadder  tone  than  the  subject  seemed 
to  require ;  but  I  supposed  that  this  was  due  to 
his  recalling  that  my  father  was  dead. 

I  confess  that  it  did  not  need  many  leading 
inquiries  to  draw  from  me  such  a  narrative  of 
my  father's  valor  and  high  principle,  as  well 
as  the  noble  sentiments  and  conspicuous  brav- 
ery which  have  marked  our  family  from  Saxon 


2O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

times,  as  I  was  well  accustomed  to  pour  forth 
for  the  edification  of  our  nursemaids.  I  had 
not  proceeded  far,  when  my  new  friend  said, 
"  Won't  you  walk  in  and  take  a  seat  ?  "  It 
was  recreation  time,  and  the  other  boys  were  all 
out  in  the  playground.  I  had  no  special  friend 
as  yet ;  Rupert  had  stuck  to  me  all  the  first 
day,  and  had  now  left  me  to  find  my  own  level. 
I  had  lingered  near  the  door  as  we  came  out, 
and  there  Weston  had  joined  me.  He  now 
led  me  back  into  the  deserted  schoolroom, 
and  we  sat  down  together  on  an  old  black  oak 
locker,  at  the  bottom  of  the  room. 

How  well  I  remember  the  scene !  The 
dirty  floor,  the  empty  benches,  the  torn  books 
sprinkled  upon  the  battered  desks,  the  dusty 
sunshine  streaming  in,  the  white-faced  clock 
on  the  wall  opposite,  over  which  the  hands 
moved  with  almost  incredible  rapidity.  But 
when  does  time  ever  fly  so  fast  as  with  people 
who  are  talking  about  themselves  or  their 
relations  ? 

Once  the  mathematical  master  passed  through 
the  room.  He  glanced  at  us  curiously,  but 
Weston's  face  was  inscrutable,  and  I  —  tra- 
cing some  surprise  that  I  should  have  secured  so 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  21 

old  and  so  fine-mannered  a  boy  for  a  friend — held 
up  my  head,  and  went  on  with  my  narrative,  as 
fluently  as  I  could,  to  show  that  I  had  parts 
which  justified  Weston  in  his  preference. 

Tick,  tack !  went  the  clock.  Click,  clack ! 
went  my  tongue.  I  fear  that  quite  half  an 
hour  must  have  passed,  when  a  big  boy,  with 
an  open  face,  blue  eyes,  and  closely  curling 
fair  hair,  burst  in.  On  seeing  us  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Hulloh !  "  and  then  stopped,  I  sus- 
pect in  obedience  to  Weston's  eyes,  which 
met  his  in  a  brief  but  expressive  gaze.  Then 
Weston  turned  to  me. 

"Allow  me,"  said  he,  "to  introduce  Mr. 
Thomas  Johnson.  He  bears  a  very  high  char- 
acter in  this  school,  and  it  will  afford  him  the 
keenest  satisfaction  to  hear  an  authentic  ac- 
count of  such  a  man  as  your  esteemed  father, 
whose  character  should  be  held  up  for  the 
imitation  of  young  gentlemen  in  every  estab- 
lishment for  the  education  of  youth." 

I  blushed  with  pride  and  somewhat  with 
nervousness  as  Mr.  Thomas  Johnson  seated 
himself  on  the  locker  on  the  other  side  of  me 
and  begged  (with  less  elegance  of  expression 
than  my  first  friend)  that  I  would  "go  ahead." 


22  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

I  did  so.  But  a  very  few  minutes  exhausted 
the  patience  of  my  new  hearer.  When  he  had 
kicked  a  loose  splinter  of  wood  satisfactorily  off 
the  leg  of  one  of  the  desks  he  began  to  look  at 
the  clock,  which  quickened  my  pace  from  my 
remoter  ancestors  to  what  the  colonel  of  the 
regiment  in  which  my  father  was  an  ensign  had 
said  of  him.  I  completed  my  narrative  at  last 
with  the  lawyer's  remark,  and  added,  "and 
everybody  says  the  same.  And  that  is  why  my 
father  had  '  The  Honorable  '  before  his  name, 
just  as—  "  etc.,  etc. 

I  had  no  sooner  uttered  these  words  than 
Johnson  started  from  his  seat,  and,  covering 
his  face  with  a  spotted  silk  pocket-handkerchief, 
rushed  precipitately  from  the  schoolroom.  For 
one  brief  instant  I  fancied  I  heard  him  choking 
with  laughter,  but  when  I  turned  to  Weston  he 
got  up  too,  with  a  look  of  deep  concern.  "  Mr. 
Johnson  is  taken  very  unwell,  I  fear,"  said  he. 
"  It  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  spasm  to  which  he  is 
subject.  Excuse  me  !  " 

He  hurried  anxiously  after  his  friend,  and  I 
was  left  alone  in  the  schoolroom,  into  which 
the  other  boys  shortly  began  to  pour. 

"  Have  you  been  all  alone,  old  fellow  ?  "  said 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  23 

Rupert  kindly ;  "  I  hoped  you  had  picked  up  a 
chum." 

"  So  I  have,"  was  my  proud  reply;  "two 
chums." 

"  I  hope  they're  decent  fellows,"  said  Rupert. 
(He  had  a  most  pestilent  trick  of  perpetually 
playing  monitor,  to  the  wet-blanketing  of  all 
good-fellowship.) 

"  You  know  best,"  said  I  pertly  ;  "  it's  Weston 
and  Johnson.  We've  been  together  a  long  time." 

"  Weston  ?  "  cried  Rupert.  "  I  hope  to  good- 
ness, Charlie,  you've  not  been  playing  the  fool  !  " 

"You  can  ask  them,"  said  I,  and  tossing  my 
head,  I  went  to  my  proper  place. 

For  the  rest  of  school-time  I  wore  a  lofty, 
and  Rupert  an  anxious,  demeanor.  Secure  on 
the  level  of  a  higher  friendship,  I  was  mean 
enough  to  snub  the  friendly  advances  of  one 
or  two  of  the  younger  boys. 

When  we  went  home  at  night,  I  found  my 
mother  much  more  ready  than  Rupert  to  be- 
lieve that  my  merits  had  gained  for  me  the 
regard  of  two  of  the  upper  boys.  I  was  exul- 
tantly happy.  Not  a  qualm  disturbed  the 
waking  dreams  in  which  (after  I  was  in  bed)  I 
retold  my  family  tale  at  even  greater  length 


24  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

than  before,  except  that  I  remembered  one  or 
two  incidents  which,  in  the  excitement  of  the 
hour,  I  had  forgotten  when  in  school. 

I  was  rather  sorry,  too,  that,  bound  by  the 
strictest  of  injunctions  from  Rupert  and  my 
own  promise,  I  had  not  been  able,  ever  so 
casually,  to  make  my  new  friends  aware  that 
among  my  other  advantages  was  that  of  being 
first  cousin  to  a  peer,  the  very  one  who  lived 
at  the  Castle.  The  Castle  was  a  show  place, 
and  I  knew  that  many  of  my  schoolfellows  were 
glad  enough  to  take  their  friends  and  go  them- 
selves to  be  shown  by  the  housekeeper  the 
pictures  of  my  ancestors.  On  this  point  they 
certainly  had  an  advantage  over  me.  I  had  not 
seen  the  pictures.  Our  cousin  never  called  on 
us,  and  never  asked  us  to  the  Castle,  and  of 
course  we  could  not  go  to  our  father's  old  home 
like  common  holiday-making  townspeople. 

I  would  rather  not  say  very  much  about  the 
next  day.  It  must  seem  almost  incredible  that 
I  could  have  failed  to  see  that  Weston  and 
Johnson  were  making  fun  of  me  ;  and  I  confess 
that  it  was  not  for  want  of  warnings  that  I  had 
made  a  fool  of  myself. 

I  had  looked  forward  to  going  to  school  with 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  2$ 

about  equal  measures  of  delight  ancl  dread  ;  my 
pride  and  ambition  longed  for  this  first  step  in 
life,  but  Rupert  had  filled  me  with  a  wholesome 
awe  of  its  stringent  etiquette,  its  withering 
ridicule,  and  unsparing  severities.  However, 
in  his  anxiety  to  make  me  modest  and  circum- 
spect, I  think  he  rather  overpainted  the  picture, 
and  when  I  got  through  the  first  day  without 
being  bullied,  and  made  such  creditable  friends 
on  the  second,  I  began  to  think  that  Rupert's 
experience  of  school  life  must  be  due  to  some 
lack  of  those  social  and  conversational  powers 
with  which  I  seemed  to  be  better  endowed. 
And  then  Weston's  acting  would  have  deceived 
a  wiser  head  than  mine.  And  the  nursemaids 
had  always  listened  so  willingly  ! 

As  it  happened,  Rupert  was  unwell  next  day 
and  could  not  go  to  school.  He  was  obviously 
afraid  of  my  going  alone,  but  I  had  no  fears. 
My  self-satisfaction  was  not  undone  till  play- 
time. Then,  not  a  boy  dispersed  to  games. 
They  all  gathered  round  Weston  in  the  play- 
ground, and  with  a  confident  air  I  also  made 
my  way  to  his  side.  As  he  turned  his  face  to 
me  I  was  undeceived. 

Weston  was  accustomed  —  at  such  times  as 


26  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

suited  his  caprice  and  his  resources  —  to  give 
exhibitions  of  his  genius  for  mimicry  to  the 
rest  of  the  boys.  I  had  heard  from  Rupert  of 
these  entertainments,  which  were  much  admired 
by  the  school.  They  commonly  consisted  of 
funny  dialogues  between  various  worthies  of  the 
place,  well  known  to  everybody,  which  made 
Weston's  audience  able  to  judge  of  the  accu- 
racy of  his  imitations.  From  the  head-master 
to  the  idiot  who  blew  the  organ  bellows  in 
church,  every  inhabitant  of  the  place  who  was 
gifted  with  any  recognizable  peculiarity  was 
personated  at  one  time  or  another  by  the  wit 
of  our  school.  The  favorite  imitation  of  all 
was  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  Dialogues  of 
Plato,  "  omitted  by  some  strange  oversight  in 
the  edition  which  graces  the  library  of  our 
learned  and  respected  doctor,"  Weston  would 
say  with  profound  gravity.  The  Dialogue  was 
between  Dr.  Jessop  and  Silly  Billy,  —  the  idiot 
already  referred  to,  —  and  the  apposite  Latin 
quotations  of  the  head-master  and  his  pompous 
English,  with  the  inapposite  replies  of  the 
organ  -  blower,  given  in  the  local  dialect  and 
Billy's  own  peculiar  jabber,  were  supposed  to 
form  a  masterpiece  of  mimicry. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  2/ 

Little  did  I  think  that  my  family  chronicle 
was  to  supply  Weston  with  a  new  field  for  his 
talents. 

In  the  midst  of  my  shame,  I  could  hardly 
help  admiring  the  clever  way  in  which  he  had 
remembered  all  the  details,  and  twisted  them 
into  a  comic  ballad,  which  he  had  composed 
overnight,  and  which  he  now  recited  with  a 
mock  heroic  air  and  voice  which  made  every 
point  tell,  and  kept  the  boys  in  convulsions  of 
laughter.  Not  a  smile  crossed  his  long  lan- 
tern-jawed face;  but  Mr.  Thomas  Johnson 
made  no  effort  this  time  to  hide  a  severe  fit 
of  his  peculiar  spasms  in  his  spotted  hand- 
kerchief. 

Sometimes  at  night,  in  the  very  bottom  of 
my  own  heart,  when  the  darkness  seemed 
thick  with  horrors,  and  when  I  could  not  make 
up  my  mind  whether  to  keep  my  ears  strained 
to  catch  the  first  sound  of  anything  dreadful, 
or  to  pull  the  blankets  over  my  head  and  run 
the  risk  of  missing  it,  —  in  such  moments,  I  say, 
I  have  had  a  passing  private  doubt  whether 
I  had  inherited  my  share  of  the  family  instinct 
of  courage  at  a  crisis. 

It  was  therefore  a  relief  to  me  to  feel  that  in 


28  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

this  moment  of  despair,  when  I  was  only  wait- 
ing till  the  boys,  being  no  longer  amused  by 
Weston,  should  turn  to  amuse  themselves  with 
me,  my  first  and  strongest  feeling  was  a  sense 
of  relief  that  Rupert  was  not  at  school,  and  that 
I  could  bear  the  fruits  of  my  own  folly  on  my 
own  shoulders.  To  be  spared  his  hectoring 
and  lecturing,  his  hurt  pride,  his  reproaches, 
and  rage  with  me,  and  a  probable  fight  with 
Weston,  in  which  he  must  have  been  seriously 
hurt  and  I  should  have  been  blamed,  — this  was 
some  comfort. 

I  had  got  my  lesson  well  by  heart.  Fifty 
thousand  preachers  in  fifty  thousand  pulpits 
could  never  have  taught  me  so  effectually  as 
Weston's  ballad  and  the  laughter  of  his  audi- 
ence, that  there  is  less  difference  than  one 
would  like  to  believe  between  the  vanity  of 
bragging  of  oneself  and  the  vanity  of  bragging 
of  one's  relations.  Also,  that  it  is  not  digni- 
fied or  discreet  to  take  new  acquaintances  into 
your  entire  confidence ;  and  that,  even  if  one 
is  blessed  with  friends  of  such  quick  sympathy 
that  they  really  enjoy  hearing  about  people 
they  have  never  seen,  it  is  well  not  to 
abuse  the  privilege,  and  now  and  then  to 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  2Q 

allow  them  an  "  innings  "  at  describing  their 
remarkable  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  and  re- 
moter relatives. 

I  realized  all  this  fully  as  I  stood,  with  burn- 
ing cheeks  and  downcast  eyes,  at  the  very  elbow 
of  my  tormentor.  But  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
I  would  not  have  run  away  even  if  I  could.  My 
resolution  grew  stubborner  with  every  peal  of 
laughter,  to  bear  whatever  might  come  with 
pluck  and  good  temper.  I  had  been  a  fool,  but 
I  would  show  that  I  was  not  a  coward. 

I  was  very  glad  that  Rupert's  influenza 
kept  him  at  home  for  a  few  days.  I  told  him 
briefly  that  I  had  been  bullied,  but  that  it  was 
my  own  fault,  and  I  would  rather  say  no  more 
about  it.  I  begged  him  to  promise  that  he 
would  not  take  up  my  quarrel  in  any  way,  but 
leave  me  to  fight  it  out  for  myself,  which  he 
did.  When  he  came  back,  I  think  he  regretted 
his  promise.  Happily,  he  never  heard  all  the 
ballad,  but  the  odd  verses  which  the  boys  sang 
about  the  place  put  him  into  a  fury.  It  was  a 
long  time  before  he  forgave  me,  and  I  doubt  if 
he  ever  quite  forgave  Weston. 

I  held  out  as  well  as  I  could.  I  made  no 
complaint,  and  kept  my  temper.  I  must  say 


3O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

that  Henrietta  behaved  uncommonly  well  to 
me  at  this  time. 

"After  all,  you  know,  Charlie,"  she  said, 
"  you've  not  done  anything  really  wrong  or  dis- 
honorable." This  was  true,  and  it  comforted 
me. 

Except  Henrietta,  I  really  had  not  a  friend ; 
for  Rupert  was  angry  with  me,  and  the  holding 
up  at  school  only  made  me  feel  worse  at  home. 

At  last,  the  joke  began  to  die  out,  and  I  was 
getting  on  very  well,  but  for  one  boy,  a  heavy- 
looking  fellow  with  a  pasty  face,  who  was  always 
creeping  after  me  and  asking  me  to  tell  him 
about  my  father.  "Johnson  Minor/'  we  called 
him.  He  was  a  younger  brother  of  Thomas 
Johnson,  the  champion  of  the  code  of  honor. 

He  was  older  than  I,  but  he  was  below  me 
in  class,  and  though  he  was  bigger,  he  was  not 
a  very  great  deal  bigger ;  and  if  there  is  any 
truth  in  the  stories  I  have  so  often  told,  our 
family  has  been  used  to  fight  against  odds  for 
many  generations. 

I  thought  about  this  a  good  deal,  and  meas- 
ured Johnson  Minor  with  my  eye.  At  last,  I 
got  Henrietta  to  wrestle  and  box  with  me  for 
practice. 


A  GREAT  EMERGENCY. 


She  was  always  willing  to  do  anything  torn- 
boyish,  indeed,  she  was  generally  willing  to  do 
anything  one  wanted,  and  her  biceps  were  as 
hard  as  mine,  for  I  pinched  them  to  see.  We 


got  two  pairs  of  gloves,  much  too  big  for  us, 
and  stuffed  cotton-wool  in  to  make  them  like 
boxing-gloves,  as  we  used  to  stuff  out  the  buff- 
colored  waistcoat  when  we  acted  old  gentleman 


32  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

in  it.  But  it  did  not  do  much  good ;  for  I  did 
not  like  to  hurt  Henrietta  when  I  got  a  chance, 
and  I  do  not  think  she  liked  to  hurt  me.  So 
I  took  to  dumb-belling  every  morning  in  my 
night-shirt ;  and  at  last  I  determined  I  would 
have  it  out  with  Johnson  Minor,  once  for  all. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  boys  had  been  very 
friendly  with  me,  and  were  going  to  have  me  in 
the  paper  chase  on  Saturday,  he  came  up  in  the 
old  way  and  began  asking  me  about  my  father, 
quite  gravely,  like  a  sort  of  poor  imitation  of 
Weston.  So  I  turned  round  and  said,  "  What- 
ever my  father  was,  —  he's  dead.  Your  father's 
alive,  Johnson,  and  if  you  weren't  a  coward,  you 
wouldn't  go  on  bullying  a  fellow  who  hasn't  got 
one." 

"  I'm  a  coward,  am  I,  Master  Honorable  ?  " 
said  Johnson,  turning  scarlet,  and  at  the  word 
Honorable  I  thought  he  had  broken  my  nose. 
I  never  felt  such  pain  in  my  life,  but  it  was  the 
only  pain  I  felt  on  the  occasion  ;  afterwards  I 
was  too  much  excited.  I  am  sorry  that  I  can- 
not remember  very  clearly  about  it,  which  I 
should  have  liked  to  do,  as  it  was  my  first 
fight. 

There  was  no  time  to  fight  properly.     I  was 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  33 

obliged  to  do  the  best  I  could.  1  made  a  sort 
of  rough  plan  in  my  head,  that  I  would  cling  to 
Johnson  as  long  as  I  was  able,  and  hit  him 
whenever  I  got  a  chance.  I  did  not  quite  know 
when  he  was  hitting  me  from  when  I  was 
hitting  him  ;  but  I  know  that  I  held  on,  and 
that  the  ground  seemed  to  be  always  hitting  us 
both. 

How  long  we  had  been  struggling  and  cuffing 
and  hitting  (less  scientifically  but  more  effectu- 
ally than  when  Henrietta  and  I  flourished  our 
stuffed  driving-gloves,  with  strict  and  constant 
reference  to  the  woodcuts  in  a  sixpenny  Boxer's 
Guide)  before  I  got  slightly  stunned,  I  do  not 
know ;  when  I  came  around  I  was  lying  in 
Weston's  arms,  and  Johnson  Minor  was  weep- 
ing bitterly  (as  he  believed)  over  my  corpse. 
I  fear  Weston  had  not  allayed  his  remorse. 

My  great  anxiety  was  to  shake  hands  with 
Johnson.  I  never  felt  more  friendly  towards 
any  one. 

He  met  me  in  the  handsomest  way.  He 
apologized  for  speaking  of  my  father,  —  "  Since 
you  don't  like  it,"  he  added,  with  an  appearance 
of  sincerity  which  puzzled  me  at  the  time,  and 
which  I  did  not  understand  till  afterwards,  — 


34  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

and  I  apologized  for  calling  him  a  coward.  We 
were  always  good  friends,  and  our  fight  made  an 
end  of  the  particular  chaff  which  had  caused  it. 

It  reconciled  Rupert  to  me,  too,  which  was 
my  greatest  gain. 

Rupert  is  quite  right.  There  is  nothing  like 
being  prepared  for  emergencies.  I  suppose,  as 
I  was  stunned,  that  Johnson  got  the  best  of  it ; 
but  judging  from  his  appearance  as  we  washed 
ourselves  at  the  school  pump,  I  was  now  quite 
prepared  for  the  emergency  of  having  to  defend 
myself  against  any  boy  not  twice  my  own  size. 


CHAPTER    III. 

SCHOOL    CRICKET.  LEMON-KALI.  THE    BOYS* 

BRIDGE. AN    UNEXPECTED    EMERGENCY. 

RUPERT  and  I  were  now  the  best  of  good 
friends  again.  I  cared  more  for  his  favor  than 
for  the  good-will  of  any  one  else,  and  kept  as 
much  with  him  as  I  could. 

I  played  cricket  with  him  in  the  school 
matches.  At  least,  I  did  not  bat  or  bowl,  but 
I  —  and  some  of  the  junior  fellows  —  " fielded 
out;"  and  when  Rupert  was  waiting  for  the  ball, 
I  would  have  given  my  life  to  catch  quickly  and 
throw  deftly.  I  used  to  think  no  one  ever 
looked  so  handsome  as  he  did  in  his  orange- 
colored  shirt,  white  flannel  trousers,  and  the 
cap  which  Henrietta  made  him.  He  and  I  had 
spent  all  our  savings  on  that  new  shirt,  for 
Mother  would  not  get  him  a  new  one.  She 
did  not  like  cricket,  or  anything  at  which 
people  could  hurt  themselves.  But  Johnson 
35 


36  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

Major  had  got  a  new  sky-blue  shirt  and  cap, 
and  we  did  not  like  Rupert  to  be  outdone 
by  him,  for  Johnson's  father  is  only  a  canal- 
carrier. 

But  the  shirt  emptied  our  pockets,  and 
made  the  old  cap  look  worse  than  ever.  Then 
Henrietta,  without  saying  a  word  to  us, 
bought  some  orange  flannel,  and  picked  the 
old  cap  to  pieces  and  cut  out  a  new  one  by 
it,  and  made  it  all  herself,  with  a  button  and  a 
stiff  peak  and  everything  ;  and  it  really  did  per- 
fectly, and  looked  very  well,  in  the  sunshine, 
over  Rupert's  brown  face  and  glossy  black 
hair. 

There  always  was  sunshine  when  we  played 
cricket.  The  hotter  it  was,  the  better  we  liked 
it.  We  had  a  bottle  of  lemon-kali  powder  on 
the  ground,  and  I  used  to  have  to  make  fizzing- 
cup  in  a  tin  mug  for  the  other  boys.  I  got  the 
water  from  the  canal. 

Lemon-kali  is  delicious  on  a  very  hot  day  - 
so  refreshing !  But  I  sometimes  fancied  I  felt 
a  little  sick  afterwards^  if  I  had  had  a  great 
deal.  And  Bustard  (who  was  always  called 
Bustard-Plaster,  because  he  was  the  doctor's 
son)  said  it  was  the  dragons  out  of  the  canal 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


37 


water  lashing  their  tails   inside    us.      He    had 
seen  them  under  his  father's  microscope. 

The  field  where  we  played  was  on  the  banks 
of  the  canal,  the  opposite  side  to  the  town.  I 
believe  it  was  school  property.  At  any  rate 
we  had  the  right  of  playing  •  there. 


We  had  to  go  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  out 
of  the  way  before  there  was  a  bridge,  and  it 
was  very  vexatious  to  toil  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
down  on  one  side  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  up  on 
the  other  to  get  at  a  meadow  which  lay  directly 
opposite  to  the  school.  Weston  wrote  a  letter 
about  it  to  the  weekly  paper,  asking  the  town 
to  build  us  a  bridge.  He  wrote  splendid  let- 
ters, and  this  was  one  of  his  very  best.  He 


38  A    GREAT   EMERGENCY. 

said  that  if  the  town  council  laughed  at  the 
notion  of  building  a  bridge  for  boys,  they  must 
remember  that  the  boys  of  to-day  were  the 
men  of  to-morrow  (which  we  all  thought  a 
grand  sentence,  though  MacDonald,  a  very 
accurate-minded  fellow,  said  it  would  really 
be  some  years  before  most  of  us  were  grown 
up).  Then  Weston  called  us  the  Rising  Gen- 
eration, and  showed  that,  in  all  probability,  the 
Prime  Minister,  Lord  Chancellor,  and  Primate 
of  the  years  to  come,  now  played  "all  uncon- 
scious of  their  future  fame"  in  the  classic  fields 
that  lay  beyond  the  water,  and  promised  that 
in  the  hours  of  our  coming  greatness  we  would 
look  back  with  gratitude  to  the  munificence  of 
our  native  city.  He  put  lots  of  Latin  in,  and 
ended  with  some  Latin  verses  of  his  own,  in 
which  he  made  the  Goddess  of  the  Stream 
plead  for  us  as  her  sons.  By  "the  Stream  "  he 
meant  the  canal,  for  we  had  no  river,  which 
of  course  Weston  couldn't  help. 

How  we  watched  for  the  next  week's  paper ! 
But  it  wasn't  in.  They  never  did  put  his  things 
in,  which  mortified  him  sadly.  His  greatest 
ambition  was  to  get  something  of  his  own 
invention  printed.  Johnson  said  he  believed 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  39 

it  was  because  Weston  always  put  something 
personal  in  the  things  he  wrote.  He  was  very 
sarcastic,  and  couldn't  help  making  fun  of 
people. 

It  was  all  the  kinder  of  Weston  to  do  his 
best  about  the  bridge,  because  he  was  not 
much  of  a  cricketer  himself.  He  said  he  was 
too  short-sighted,  and  that  it  suited  him  better 
to  poke  in  the  hedges  for  beetles.  He  had  a 
splendid  collection  of  insects.  Bustard  used  to 
say  that  he  poked  with  his  nose,  as  if  he  were 
an  insect  himself,  and  it  was  a  proboscis  ;  but 
he  said,  too,  that  his  father  said  it  was  a  pleas- 
sure  to  see  Weston  make  a  section  of  anything, 
and  prepare  objects  for  the  microscope.  His 
fingers  were  as  clever  as  his  tongue. 

It  was  not  long  after  Rupert  got  his  new 
shirt  and  cap  that  a  very  sad  thing  happened. 

We  were  playing  cricket  one  day,  as  usual. 
It  was  tery  hot,  and  I  was  mixing  some  lemon- 
kali  at  the  canal,  and  holding  up  the  mug  to 
tempt  Weston  over,  who  was  on  the  other  side 
with  his  proboscis  among  the  water-plants,  col- 
lecting larvae.  Rupert  was  batting,  and  a  new 
fellow,  who  bowled  much  more  swiftly  than 
we  were  accustomed  to,  had  the  ball.  I  was 


4<D  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

straining  my  ears  to  catch  what  Weston  was 
shouting  to  me  between  his  hands,  when  I 
saw  him  start  and  point  to  the  cricketers, 
and  turning  round;  I  saw  Rupert  lying  on  the 
ground. 

The  ball  had  hit  him  on  the  knee  and 
knocked  him  down.  He  struggled  up,  and 
tried  to  stand ;  but  whilst  he  was  saying  it 
was  nothing  and  scolding  the  other  fellows  for 
not  going  on,  he  fell  down  again,  fainting  from 
pain. 

"The  leg's  broken,  depend  upon  it,"  said 
Bustard  Plaster;  " shall  I  run  for  my  father?" 

I  thanked  him  earnestly,  for  I  did  not  like 
to  leave  Rupert  myself.  But  Johnson  Major, 
who  was  kicking  off  his  cricketing  shoes,  said, 
"  It'll  take  an  hour  to  get  'round  ;  I'll  go.  Get 
him  some  water,  and  keep  his  cap  on ;  the 
sun  is  blazing."  And  before  we  could  speak 
he  was  in  the  canal  and  swimming  across. 

I  went  back  to  the  bank  for  my  mug,  in 
which  the  lemon-kali  was  fizzing  itself  out,  and 
with  this  I  got  some  water  for  Rupert,  and  at 
last  he  opened  his  eyes.  As  I  was  getting  the 
water,  I  saw  Weston  unmooring  a  boat  which, 
was  fastened  a  little  farther  up.  He  was  evi- 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  4! 

dently  coming  to  help  us  to  get  Rupert  across 
the  canal. 

Bustard's  words  rang  in  my  ears.  Perhaps 
Rupert's  leg  was  broken.  Bustard  was  a 
doctor's  son,  and  ought  to  know.  And  I 
have  often  thought  it  must  be  a  very  diffi- 
cult tiling  to  know,  for  people's  legs  don't 
break  right  off  when  they  break.  My  first 
feeling  had  been  utter  bewilderment  and  mis- 
ery ;  but  I  collected  my  senses  with  the  reflec- 
tion that,  if  I  lost  my  presence  of  mind  in 
the  first  real  emergency  that  happened  to  me, 
my  attendance  at  Rupert's  lectures  had  been 
a  mockery,  and  I  must  be  the  first  fool  and 
coward  of  my  family.  And  if  I  failed  in  the 
emergency  of  a  broken  leg,  how  could  I  ever 
hope  to  conduct  myself  with  credit  over  a  case 
of  drowning  ?  I  did  feel  thankful  that  Rupert's 
welfare  did  not  depend  on  our  pulling  his  arms 
up  and  down  in  a  particular  way  ;  but  as  Wes- 
ton  was  just  coming  ashore,  I  took  out  my 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  kneeling  down  by 
Rupert  said,  with  as  good  an  air  as  I  could 
assume,  "We  must  tie  the  broken  leg  to  the 
other  at  the  —  " 

"  Dorit  touch  it,  you  young  fool !  "  shrieked 


42  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

Rupert.  And  though  directly  afterwards  he 
begged  my  pardon  for  speaking  sharply,  he 
would  not  hear  of  my  touching  his  leg. 
So  they  got  him  into  the  boat  the  best  way 
they  could,  and  Weston  sat  by  him  to  hold 
him  up ;  and  the  boy  who  had  been  bowling 
pulled  them  across.  I  wasn't  big  enough  to  do 
either,  so  I  had  to  run  around  by  the  bridge. 

I  fancy  it  must  be  easier  to  act  with  pres- 
ence of  mind  if  the  emergency  has  happened 
to  somebody  who  has  not  been  used  to  order- 
ing you  about  as  much  as  Rupert  was  used  to 
ordering  me. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A    DOUBTFUL     BLESSING. A     FAMILY     FAILING. 

—  OLD     BATTLES.  THE     CANAL-CARRIER'S 

HOME. 

WHEN  we  found  that  Rupert's  leg  was  not 
broken,  and  that  it  was  only  a  severe  blow  on 
his  knee,  we  were  all  delighted.  But  when 
weeks  and  months  went  by  and  he  was  still 
lame  and  very  pale,  and  always  tired,  we  began 
to  count  for  how  long  past  it  would  have  been 
set,  and  poor  Rupert  quite  well,  if  the  leg  had 
been  broken.  And  when  Johnny  Bustard  said 
that  legs  and  arms  were  often  stronger  after 
being  broken  than  before  (if  they  were  properly 
set,  as  his  father  could  do  them),  we  felt  that,  if 
Gregory  would  bowl  for  people's  shins,  he  had 
better  break  them  at  once,  and  let  Mr.  Bustard 
make  a  good  job  of  them. 

The  first  part  of  the  time  Rupert  made  light 
of  his  accident,  and  wanted  to  go  back  to  school, 
43 


44  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

and  was  very  irritable  and  impatient.  But  as 
the  year  went  on,  he  left  off  talking  about  its 
being  all  nonsense,  and  though  he  suffered  a 
great  deal,  he  never  complained.  I  used  quite 
to  miss  his  lecturing  me,  but  he  did  not  even 
squabble  with  Henrietta  now. 

This  reminds  me  of  a  great  fault  of  mine,  — 
I  am  afraid  it  was  a  family  failing,  though  it  is 
a  very  mean  one,  —  I  was  jealous.  If  I  were 
"particular  friends"  with  any  one,  I  liked  to 
have  him  all  to  myself ;  when  Rupert  was 
"out"  with  me  because  of  the  Weston  affair, 
I  was  "particular  friends"  with  Henrietta.  I 
did  not  exactly  give  her  up  when  Rupert  and  I 
were  all  right  again,  but  when  she  complained 
one  day  (I  think  she  was  jealous,  too !),  I  said, 
"I'm  particular  friends  with  you  as  a  sister 
still  ;  but  you  know  Rupert  and  I  are  both 
boys." 

I  did  love  Rupert  very  dearly,  and  I  would 
have  given  up  anything  and  everything  to  serve 
him  and  wait  upon  him  now  that  he  was  laid 
up  ;  but  I  would  rather  have  had  him  all  to 
myself,  whereas  Henrietta  was  now  his  particu- 
lar friend.  It  is  because  I  know  how  meanly 
I  felt  about  it  that  I  should  like  to  say  how 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  45 

good  she  was.  My  mother  was  very  delicate, 
and  she  had  a  horror  of  accidents ;  but  Hen- 
rietta stood  at  Mr.  Bustard's  elbow  all  the  time 
he  was  examining  Rupert's  knee,  and  after  that 
she  always  did  the  fomentations  and  things. 
At  first,  Rupert  said  she  hurt  him,  and  would 
have  Nurse  to  do  it ;  but  Nurse  hurt  him  so 
much  more  that  then  he  would  not  let  any- 
body but  Henrietta  touch  it.  And  he  never 
called  her  Monkey  now,  and  I  could  see  how 
she  tried  to  please  him.  One  day  she  came 
down  to  breakfast  with  her  hair  all  done  up  in 
the  way  that  was  in  fashion  then,  like  a 
grown-up  young  lady,  and  I  think  Rupert  was 
pleased,  though  she  looked  rather  funny  and 
very  red.  And  so  Henrietta  nursed  him  alto- 
gether, and  used  to  read  battles  to  him  as  he 
lay  on  the  sofa ;  and  Rupert  made  plans  of  the 
battles  on  cardboard,  and  moved  bits  of  pith 
out  of  the  elder-tree  about  for  the  troops,  and 
showed  Henrietta  how,  if  he  had  had  the  moving 
of  them  really,  and  had  done  it  quite  differently 
from  the  way  the  generals  did,  the  other  side 
would  have  won  instead  of  being  beaten. 

And  Mother  used  to  say,   "  That's  just  the 
way  your  poor  father  used  to  go  on !     As  if  it 


46  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

wasn't  enough  to  have  to  run  the  risk  of  being 
killed  or  wounded  once  or  twice  yourself,  with- 
out bothering  your  head  about  battles  you've 
nothing  to  do  with." 

And  when  he  did  the  battle  in  which  my 
father  fell,  and  planted  the  battery  against 
which  he  led  his  men  for  the  last  time,  and 
where  he  was  struck  under  the  arm  with  which 
he  was  waving  his  sword  over  his  head,  Rupert 
turned  whiter  than  ever,  and  said,  "  Good 
heavens,  Henrietta  !  Father  limped  up  to  that 
battery !  He  led  his  men  for  two  hours  after 
he  was  wounded  in  the  leg,  before  he  fell,  —  and 
here  I  sit  and  grumble  at  a  knock  from  a 
cricket-ball ! " 

Just  then  Mr.  Bustard  came  in,  and  when  he 
shook  Rupert's  hand  he  kept  his  fingers  on  it 
and  shook  his  own  head  ;  and  he  said  there  was 
an  "abnormal  condition  of  the  pulse,"  in  such 
awful  tones  that  I  was  afraid  it  was  something 
that  Rupert  would  die  of.  But  Henrietta 
understood  better,  and  she  would  not  let  Ru- 
pert do  that  battle  any  more. 

Rupert's  friends  were  very  kind  to  him  when 
he  was  ill,  but  the  kindest  of  all  was  Thomas 
Johnson. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  4/ 

Johnson's  grandfather  was  a  carfal-carrier, 
and  made  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  Johnson's 
father  got  the  money  and  went  on  with  the 
business.  We  had  a  great  discussion  once  in 
the  nursery  as  to  whether  Johnson's  father 
was  a  gentleman,  and  Rupert  ran  downstairs 
and  into  the  drawing-room,  shouting,  "  Now, 
Mother,  is  a  carrier  a  gentleman  ? " 

And  Mother,  who  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  said, 
"  Of  course  not.  What  silly  things  you  children 
do  ask  !  Why  can't  you  amuse  yourselves  in  the 
nursery  ?  It  is  very  hard  you  should  come  and 
disturb  me  for  such  a  nonsensical  question."* 

Rupert  was  always  good  to  Mother,  and  he 
shut  the  drawing-room  door  very  gently.  Then 
he  came  rushing  up  to  the  nursery  to  say  that 
Mother  said,  "  Of  course  not."  But  Henrietta 
said,  "What  did  you  ask  her?"  And  when 
Rupert  told  her,  she  said,  "  Of  course  Mother 
thought  you  meant  one  of  those  men  who  have 
carts  to  carry  things,  with  a  hood  on  the  top 
and  a  dog  underneath." 

Johnson's  father  and  grandfather  were  not 
carriers  of  that  kind.  They  owned  a  lot  of 
canal-boats  and  one  or  two  big  barges,  which 
took  all  kinds  of  things  all  the  way  to  London. 


48  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

Mr.  Johnson  used  to  say,  "  In  my  father's 
time,  men  of  business  lived  near  their  work 
both  in  London  and  the  country.  That's  why 
my  house  is  close  to  the  wharf.  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  my  trade,  and  the  place  is  very 
comfortable,  so  I  shall  stick  to  it.  Tom  may 
move  into  the  town,  and  give  the  old  house  to 
the  foreman  when  I  am  gone,  if  he  likes  to 
play  the  fine  gentleman." 

Tom  would  be  very  foolish  if  he  did.  It  is 
the  dearest  old  house  one  could  wish  for.  It 
was  built  of  red  brick,  but  the  ivy  has  covered 
it  so  thickly  that  it  is  clipped  around  the  old- 
fashioned  windows  like  a  hedge.  The  gardens 
are  simply  perfect.  In  summer  you  can  pick 
as  many  flowers  and  eat  as  much  fruit  as  you 
like,  and  if  that  is  not  the  use  and  beauty  of  a 
garden,  I  do  not  know  what  is. 

Johnson's  father  was  very  proud  of  him,  and  let 
him  have  anything  he  liked  ;  and  in  the  midsum- 
mer holidays  Johnson  used  to  bring  his  father's 
trap  and  take  Rupert  out  for  drives,  and  Mrs. 
Johnson  used  to  put  meat  pies  and  strawberries 
in  a  basket  under  the  seat,  so  that  it  was  a  kind 
of  picnic,  for  the  old  horse  had  belonged  to  Mr. 
Bustard  and  was  a  capital  one  for  standing  still. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  49 

It  was  partly  because  of  the  Johnsons  being 
so  kind  to  Rupert  that  Johnson  Minor  and  I 
became  chums  at  school,  and  partly  because 
the  fight  had  made  us  friendly  and  I  had  no 
Rupert  now,  and  was  rather  jealous  of  his 
taking  completely  to  Henrietta,  —  and  most  of 
all,  I  fancy,  because  Johnson  Minor  was  deter- 
mined to  be  friends  with  me.  He  was  a  very 
odd  fellow.  There  was  nothing  he  liked  so 
much  as  wonderful  stories  about  people,  and  I 
never  heard  such  wonderful  stories  as  he  told 
himself.  When  we  became  friends,  he  told  me 
he  had  never  meant  to  bully  me  when  he  asked 
about  my  father ;  he  really  did  want  to  hear 
about  his  battles,  and  so  forth. 

But  the  utmost  I  could  tell  him  about  my 
father  was  nothing  to  the  tales  he  told  me 
about  his  grandfather,  the  navy  captain. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     NAVY     CAPTAIN. SEVEN     PARROTS     IN     A 

FUCHSIA-TREE. THE  HARBOR   LION    AND    THE 

SILVER      CHAIN. THE       LEGLESS      GIANTS.  - 

DOWN    BELOW. JOHNSON'S    WHARF. 

THE  Johnsons  were  very  fond  of  their  father, 
he  was  such  a  good,  kind  man  ;  but  I  think  they 
would  have  been  glad  if  he  had  had  a  profession 
instead  of  being  a  canal-carrier,  and  I  am  sure 
it  pleased  them  to  think  that  Mrs.  Johnson's 
father  had  been  a  navy  captain,  and  that  his 
portrait  —  uniform  and  all -- hung  over  the 
horsehair  sofa  in  the  dining-room,  near  the 
window  where  the  yellow  roses  used  to  come 
in. 

If  I  could  get  the  room  to  myself,  I  used  to 
kneel  on  the  sofa,  on  one  of  the  bolsters,  and 
gaze  at  the  faded  little  picture  till  I  lost  my 
balance  on  the  slippery  horsehair,  from  the  in- 
tensity of  my  interest  in  the  hero  of  Johnson 
50 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  51 

»  . 

Minors  tales.  Every  time,  I  think,  I  expected 
to  see  some  change  in  the  expression  of  the 
Captain's  red  face,  adapting  it  better  to  what, 
by  his  grandson's  account,  his  character  must 
have  been.  It  seemed  so  odd  he  should  look 
so  wooden  after  having  seen  so  much. 

The  Captain  had  been  a  native  of  South 
Devon. 

"  Raleigh,  Drake,  my  grandfather,  and  lots  of 
other  great  sailors  were  born  in  Devonshire," 
Johnson  said.  He  certainly  did  brag ;  but  he 
spoke  so  slowly  and  quietly  that  it  did  not 
sound  so  much  like  bragging  as  it  would  have 
done  if  he  had  talked  faster,  I  think. 

The  Captain  had  lived  at  Dartmouth,  and  of 
this  place  Johnson  gave  me  such  descriptions 
that,  to  this  day,  the  name  of  Dartmouth  has 
a  romantic  sound  in  my  ears,  though  I  know 
now  that  all  the  marvels  were  Johnson's  own 
invention,  and  barely  founded  upon  the  real 
quaintness  of  the  place,  of  which  he  must  have 
heard  from  his  mother.  It  became  the  high- 
est object  of  my  ambition  to  see  the  Captain's 
native  city.  That  there  must  be  people  —  shop- 
keepers, for  instance,  and  a  man  to  keep  the 
post-office  —  who  lived  there  all  along,  was  a 


52  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

fact  that  I  could  not  realize  sufficiently  to  envy 
them. 

Johnson  —  or  Fred,  as  I  used  to  call  him  by 
this  time  —  only  exaggerated  the  truth  about 
the  shrubs  that  grow  in  the  greenhouse  atmos- 
phere of  South  Devon,  when  he  talked  of  the 
Captain's  fuchsia-trees  being  as  big  as  the  old 
willows  by  the  canal  wharf ;  but  the  parrots 
must  have  been  a  complete  invention.  He 
said  the  Captain  had  seven.  Two  green,  two 
crimson,  two  blue,  and  one  violet  with  an 
orange-colored  beak  and  gray  lining  to  his 
wings  ;  and  that  they  built  nests  in  the  fuchsia- 
trees  of  sandal-wood  shavings,  and  lined  them 
with  the  Captain's  silk  pocket-handkerchiefs. 
He  said  that  though  the  parrots  stole  the  Cap- 
tain's handkerchiefs,  they  were  all  very  much 
attached  to  him ;  but  they  quarrelled  among 
themselves,  and  swore  at  each  other  in  seven 
dialects  of  the  West  Coast  of  Africa. 

Mrs.  Johnson  herself  once  showed  me  a  little 
print  of  the  harbor,  and  told  me  that  it  was 
supposed  that  in  old  times  an  iron  chain  was 
stretched  from  rock  to  rock  across  its  mouth  as 
a  means  of  defence.  And  that  afternoon  Fred 
told  me  a  splendid  story  about  the  chain,  and 


A   GREAT   EMERGENCY.  53 

how  it  was  made  of  silver,  and  that  each  link 
was  worth  twenty  pounds,  and  how,  at  the  end 
where  it  was  fastened  with  a  padlock  every 
night,  at  sunset  to  keep  out  the  French,  a  lion 
sat  on  a  ledge  of  rock  at  the  harbor's  mouth, 
with  the  key  tied  round  his  neck  by  a  sea-green 
ribbon.  He  had  to  have  a  new  ribbon  on  the 
first  Sunday  in  every  month,  Fred  said,  because 
his  mane  dirtied  them  so  fast.  A  story  which 
Fred  had,  of  his  grandfather's  single-handed 
encounter  with  this  lion  on  one  occasion,  when 
the  gallant  Captain  would  let  a  brig  in  distress 
into  the  harbor  after  sunset,  and  the  lion  would 
not  let  him  have  the  key,  raised  my  opinion  of 
his  courage  and  his  humanity  to  the  highest 
point.  But  what  he  did  at  home  was  nothing 
to  the  exploits  which  Fred  recounted  of  him  in 
foreign  lands. 

I  fancy  Fred  must  have  read  some  real 
accounts  of  South  America,  the  tropical  for- 
ests, the  wonderful  birds  and  flowers,  and  the 
ruins  of  those  buried  cities  which  have  no 
history;  and  that  on  these  real  marvels  he 
built  up  his  own  romances  of  the  Great  Stone 
City,  where  the  Captain  encountered  an  awful 
race  of  giants  with  no  legs,  who  carved  stones 


54  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

into  ornaments  with  clasp-knives  as  the  Swiss 
cut  out  pretty  things  in  wood,  and  cracked 
the  cocoanuts  with  their  ringers.  I  am  sure 
he  invented  flowers  as  he  went  along,  when 
he  was  telling  me  about  the  forests.  He  used 
to  look  around  the  garden  (which  would  have 
satisfied  any  one  who  had  not  seen  or  heard  of 
what  the  Captain  had  come  across),  and  say  in 
his  slow  way,  "The  blue  chalice  -  flower  was 
about  the  shape  of  that  magnolia,  only  twice 
as  big,  and  just  the  color  of  the  gentians  in 
the  border,  and  it  had  a  great  white  tassel 
hanging  out  like  the  cactus  in  the  parlor  win- 
dow, and  all  the  leaves  were  yellow  underneath ; 
and  it  smelt  like  rosemary." 

If  the  Captain's  experiences  in  other  countries 
outshone  what  had  befallen  him  in  his  native 
land,  both  of  these  paled  before  the  wonders 
he  had  seen,  and  the  emergencies  he  had  been 
placed  in  at  sea.  Fred  told  me  that  his  grand- 
father had  a  diving-bell  of  his  own  on  board  his 
own  ship,  and  the  things  he  saw  when  he  went 
down  in  it  must  have  made  his  remembrances 
of  the  South  American  forests  appear  tame  by 
comparison. 

Once,  in  the  middle  of  the  Pacific,  the  Captain 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  55 

dropped  down  in  his  bell  into  the  midst  of  a 
society  of  sea  people  who  had  no  hair,  but  the 
backs  of  their  heads  were  shaped  like  sou'- 
wester hats.  The  front  rim  formed  one  eye- 
brow for  both  eyes,  and  they  could  move  the 
peak  behind  as  beavers  move  their  tails,  and  it 
helped  them  to  go  up  and  down  in  the  water. 
They  were  not  exactly  mermaids,  Fred  said; 
they  had  no  particular  tail,  —  it  all  ended  in  a 
kind  of  fringe  of  seaweed,  which  swept  after 
them,  when  they  moved,  like  the  train  of  a  lady's 
dress.  The  Captain  was  so  delighted  with  them 
that  he  stayed  below  much  longer  than  usual ; 
but  in  an  unlucky  moment  some  of  the  sea 
people  let  the  water  into  the  diving-bell,  and 
the  Captain  was  nearly  drowned.  He  did  be- 
come senseless,  but  when  his  body  floated,  it 
was  picked  up  and  restored  to  life  by  the 
first  mate,  who,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  had  been 
cruising  over  the  spot,  in  the  ship's  boat,  for 
seven  days  without  taking  anything  to  eat. 
"He  was  a  Dartmouth  man,  too,"  said  Fred 
Johnson. 

"  He  evidently  knew  what  to  do  in  the  emer- 
gency of  drowning,"  thought  I. 

I   feel   as   if  any   one  who   hears   of   Fred's 


56  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

stories  must  think  he  was  a  liar.  But  he 
really  was  not.  Mr.  Johnson  was  very  strict 
with  the  boys  in  some  ways,  though  he  was 
so  good-natured,  and  Fred  had  been  taught  to 
think  a  lie  to  get  himself  out  of  a  scrape,  or 
anything  of  that  sort,  quite  as  wrong  as  we 
should  have  thought  it.  But  he  liked  telling 
things.  I  believe  he  made  them  up  and  amused 
himself  with  them  in  his  own  head  if  he  had 
no  one  to  listen.  He  used  to  say,  "  Come  and 
sit  in  the  kitchen-garden  this  afternoon,  and  I'll 
tell  you."  And  whether  he  meant  me  to  think 
them  true  or  not,  I  certainly  did  believe  in  his 
stories. 

One  thing  always  struck  me  as  very  odd 
about  Fred  Johnson,  He  was  very  fond  of 
fruit,  and  when  we  sat  on  the  wall  and  ate  the 
white  currants  with  pounded  sugar  in  a  mug 
between  us,  I  believe  he  always  ate  more  than 
I  did,  though  he  was  "  telling "  all  the  time, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  listen  and  eat. 

He  certainly  talked  very  slowly,  in  a  dreary, 
monotonous  sort  of  voice,  which  suited  his 
dull,  pasty  face  better  than  it  suited  the 
subject  of  his  exciting  narratives.  But  I 
think  it  seemed  to  make  one  all  the  more 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  57 

impatient  to  hear  what  was  coming.  A  very 
favorite  place  of  ours  for  "telling"  was 
the  wharf  (Johnson's  wharf,  as  it  was  called), 
where  the  canal-boats  came  and  went,  and 
loaded  and  unloaded.  We  made  a  "  coast-guard 
station  "  among  some  old  timber  in  the  corner, 
and  here  we  used  to  sit  and  watch  for  the 
boats. 

When  a  real  barge  came  we  generally  went 
over  it,  for  the  men  knew  Fred,  and  were  very 
good-natured.  The  barges  seemed  more  like 
ships  than  the  canal-boats  did.  They  had 
masts,  and  could  sail  when  they  got  into  the 
river.  Sometimes  we  went  down  into  the 
cabin,  and  peeped  into  the  little  berths  with 
sliding  shutter  fronts,  and  the  lockers,  which 
were  like  a  fixed  seat  running  around  two  sides 
of  the  cabin,  with  lids  opening  and  showing 
places  to  put  away  things  in.  I  was  not 
famous  in  the  nursery  for  keeping  my  things 
very  tidy,  but  I  fancied  I  could  stow  my 
clothes  away  to  perfection  in  a  locker,  and 
almost  cook  my  own  dinner  with  the  barge- 
man's little  stove. 

And  every  time  a  barge  was  loaded  up,  and 
the  bargemaster  took  his  post  at  the  rudder, 


$8  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

whilst  the  old  horse  strained  himself  to  start, 
and  when  the  heavy  boat  swung  slowly  down 
the  canal  and  passed  out  of  sight,  I  felt  more 
and  more  sorry  to  be  left  behind  upon  the 
wharf. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ST.   PHILIP   AND  ST.   JAMES. THE   MONKEY- 
BARGE  AND  THE  DOG. WAR,  PLAGUE,  AND 

FIRE. THE  DULLNESS  OF  EVERY-DAY  LIFE. 

THERE  were  two  churches  in  our  town.  Not 
that  the  town  was  so  very  large  or  the  churches 
so  very  small  as  to  make  this  needful.  On  the 
contrary,  the  town  was  of  modest  size,  with  no 
traces  of  having  ever  been  much  bigger,  and 
the  churches  were  very  large  and  very  hand- 
some. That  is,  they  were  fine  outside,  and 
might  have  been  very  imposing  within  but  for 
the  painted  galleries  which  blocked  up  the 
arches  above,  and  the  tall  pews  which  dwarfed 
the  majestic  rows  of  pillars  below.  They  were 
not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart.  One 
was  dedicated  to  St.  Philip,  and  the  other  to  St. 
James,  and  they  were  commonly  called  "the 
brother  churches."  In  the  tower  of  each  hung 
a  peal  of  eight  bells. 

59 


60  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

One  clergyman  served  both  the  brother 
churches,  and  the  services  were  at  St.  Philip 
one  week,  and  at  St.  James  the  next.  We  were 
so  accustomed  to  this  that  it  never  struck  us  as 
odd.  What  did  seem  odd,  and  perhaps  a  little 
dull,  was  that  people  in  other  places  should 
have  to  go  to  the  same  church  week  after  week. 

There  was  only  one  day  in  the  year  on 
which  both  the  peals  of  bells  were  heard,  the 
Feast  of  SS.  Philip  and  James,  which  is  also 
May-day.  Then  there  was  morning  prayer  at 
St.  Philip,  and  evening  prayer  at  St.  James,  and 
the  bells  rang  changes  and  cannons,  and  went 
on  ringing  by  turns  all  the  evening,  the  bell- 
ringers  being  escorted  from  one  church  to 
another  with  May  garlands  and  a  sort  of 
triumphal  procession.  The  churches  were 
decorated,  and  flags  put  out  on  the  towers, 
and  everybody  in  the  congregation  was  ex- 
pected to  carry  a  nosegay. 

Rupert  and  I  and  Henrietta  and  Baby  Cecil 
and  the  servants  always  enjoyed  this  thor- 
oughly, and  thought  the  churches  delightfully 
sweet ;  but  my  mother  said  the  smell  of  the 
cottage  nosegays  and  the  noise  of  the  bells 
made  her  feel  very  ill,  which  was  a  pity. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  6 1 

Fred  Johnson  once  told  me  some  wonderful 
stories  about  the  brother  churches.  We  had 
gone  over  the  canal  to  a  field  not  far  from  the 
cricketing-field,  but  it  was  a  sort  of  water- 
meadow,  and  lower  down,  and  opposite  to  the 
churches,  which  made  us  think  of  them.  We 
had  gone  there  partly  to  get  yellow  flags  to  try 
and  grow  them  in  tubs  as  Johnson's  father  did 
water-lilies,  and  partly  to  watch  for  a  canal-boat, 
or  "  monkey-barge,"  which  was  expected  up  with 
coal.  Fred  knew  the  old  man,  and  we  hoped 
to  go  home  as  part  of  the  cargo  if  the  old 
man's  dog  would  let  us  ;  but  he  was  a  rough 
terrier,  with  an  exaggerated  conscience,  and 
strongly  objected  to  anything  coming  on 
board  the  boat  which  was  not  in  the  bill  of 
lading.  He  could  not  even  reconcile  himself 
to  the  fact  that  people  not  connected  with 
barges  took  the  liberty  of  walking  on  the  canal- 
banks. 

"  He've  been  a-going  up  and  down  with  me 
these  fifteen  year,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  he 
barks  at  'm  still."  He  barked  so  fiercely  at  us 
that  Fred  would  not  go  on  board,  to  my  great 
annoyance,  for  I  never  feel  afraid  of  dogs,  and 
was  quite  sure  I  could  see  a  disposition  to  wag 


62  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

about  the  stumpy  tail  of  the  terrier,  in  spite  of 
his  "  bowfs." 

I  may  have  been  wrong,  but  once  or  twice  I 
fancied  that  Fred  shirked  adventures  which 
seemed  nothing  to  me ;  and  I  felt  this  to  be 
very  odd,  because  I  am  not  as  brave  as  I  should 
like  to  be,  and  Fred  is  grandson  to  the  navy 
captain. 

I  think  Fred  wanted  to  make  me  forget  the 
canal-boat,  which  I  followed  with  regretful 
eyes,  for  he  began  talking  about  the  churches. 

"  It  must  be  splendid  to  hear  all  sixteen  bells 
going  at  once,"  said  he. 

"They  never  do,"  said  I,  unmollified. 

"They  do  —  sometimes"  said  Fred  slowly, 
and  so  impressively  that  I  was  constrained  to 
answer,  "When?" 

"  In  great  emergencies,"  was  Fred's  reply, 
which  startled  me.  But  we  had  only  lived  in 
the  place  for  part  of  our  lives,  and  Fred's 
family  belonged  to  it,  so  he  must  know  better 
than  I. 

"  Is  it  to  call  the  doctor  ? "  I  asked,  thinking 
of  drowning,  and  broken  bones,  and  apoplectic 
fits. 

"  It's  to  call  everybody,"  said  Fred  ;  "that  is, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  63 

in  time  of  war,  when  the  town  is  in  danger. 
And  when  the  Great  Plague  was  here,  St.  Philip 
and  St.  James  both  tolled  all  day  long  with 
their  bells  muffled.  But  when  there's  a  fire 
they  ring  backwards,  as  witches  say  prayers, 
you  know." 

War  and  the  plague  had  not  been  here  for  a 
very  long  time,  and  there  had  been  no  fire  in 
the  town  in  my  remembrance ;  but  Fred  said 
that  awful  calamities  of  the  kind  had  happened 
within  the  memory  of  man,  when  the  town  was 
still  built  in  great  part  of  wood,  and  that  one 
night,  during  a  high  gale,  the  whole  place,  ex- 
cept a  few  houses,  had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 
After  this  the  streets  were  rebuilt  of  stone  and 
bricks. 

These  new  tales  which  Fred  told  me,  of 
places  I  knew,  had  a  terrible  interest  peculiarly 
their  own.  For  the  Captain's  dangers  were 
over  for  good  now,  but  war,  plague,  and  fire  in 
the  town  might  come  again. 

I  thought  of  them  by  day  and  dreamed  of 
them  by  night.  Once  I  remember  being  awak- 
ened, as  I  fancied,  by  the  clanging  of  the  two 
peals  in  discordant  unison,  and  as  I  opened  my 
eyes  a  bright  light  on  the  wall  convinced  me 


64  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

that  the  town  was  on  fire.  Fred's  vivid  descrip- 
tions rushed  to  my  mind,  and  I  looked  out 
expecting  to  see  St.  Philip  and  St.  James  stand- 
ing up  like  dark  rocks  in  a  sea  of  dancing 
flames,  their  bells  ringing  backwards,  "as 
witches  say  prayers."  It  was  only  when  I  saw 
both  the  towers  standing  gray  and  quiet  above 
the  gray  and  quiet  town,  and  when  I  found 
that  the  light  upon  the  wall  came  from  the 
street-lamp  below,  that  my  head  seemed  to 
grow  clearer,  and  I  knew  that  no  bells  were 
ringing,  and  that  those  I  fancied  I  heard  were 
only  the  prolonged  echoes  of  a  bad  dream. 

I  was  very  glad  that  it  was  so,  and  I  did  not 
exactly  wish  for  war  or  the  plague  to  come 
back ;  and  yet  the  more  I  heard  of  Fred's  tales, 
the  more  restless  I  grew  because  the  days  were 
so  dull,  and  because  we  never  went  anywhere, 
and  nothing  ever  happened. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WE   RESOLVE   TO   RUN  AWAY. SCRUPLES.— 

BABY  CECIL. I  PREPARE. I  RUN  AWAY. 

I  THINK  it  was  Fred's  telling  me  tales  of  the 
navy  captain's  boyhood  which  put  it  into  our 
heads  that  the  only  way  for  people  at  our  age, 
and  in  our  position,  to  begin  a  life  of  adventure 
is  to  run  away. 

The  Captain  had  run  away.  He  ran  away 
from  school.  But  then,  the  school  was  one 
which  it  made  your  hair  stand  on  end  to  hear 
of.  The  master  must  have  been  a  monster  of 
tyranny,  the  boys  little  prodigies  of  wickedness 
and  misery,  and  the  food  such  as  would  have 
been  rejected  by  respectably  reared  pigs. 

It  put  his  grandson  and  me  at  a  disadvantage 
that  we  had  no  excuses  of  the  kind  for  running 
away  from  the  grammar  school.  Doctor  Jessop 
was  a  little  pompous,  but  he  was  sometimes 
positively  kind.  There  was  not  even  a  cruel 

65 


66  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

usher.  I  was  no  dunce,  nor  was  Fred,  though 
he  was  below  me  in  class,  so  that  we  had  not 
even  a  grievance  in  connection  with  our  lessons. 
This  made  me  feel  as  if  there  would  be  some- 
thing mean  and  almost  dishonorable  in  running 
away  from  school.  "  I  think  it  would  not  be 
fair  to  the  Doctor,"  said  I ;  "it  would  look  as 
if  he  had  driven  us  to  it,  and  he  hasn't.  We 
had  better  wait  till  the  holidays." 

Fred  seemed  more  willing  to  wait  than  I 
had  expected  ;  but  he  planned  what  we  were 
to  do  when  we  did  go  as  vigorously  as  ever. 

It  was  not  without  qualms  that  I  thought  of 
running  away  from  home.  My  mother  would 
certainly  be  greatly  alarmed  ;  but  then,  she 
was  greatly  alarmed  by  so  many  things  to 
which  she  afterwards  became  reconciled  !  My 
conscience  reproached  me  more  about  Rupert 
and  Henrietta.  Not  one  of  us  had  longed  for 
"  events  "  and  exploits  so  earnestly  as  my  sister  ; 
and  who  but  Rupert  had  prepared  me  for  em- 
ergencies, not  perhaps  such  as  the  Captain  had 
had  to  cope  with,  but  of  the  kinds  recognized 
by  the  yellow  leather  book  ?  We  had  been 
very  happy  together,  —  Rupert,  Henrietta, 
Baby  Cecil,  and  I?  —  and  we  had  felt  in 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  6/ 

common  the  one  defect  of  our  lives,  that  there 
were  no  events  in  them ;  and  now  I  was 
going  to  begin  a  life  of  adventure,  to  run 
away  and  seek  my  fortune,  without  even  tell- 
ing them  what  I  was  going  to  do. 

On  the  other  hand,  that  old  mean  twinge  of 
jealousy  was  one  of  my  strongest  impulses  to 
adventure-seeking,  and  it  urged  me  to  perform 
my  exploits  alone.  Some  people  seem  to  like 
dangers  and  adventures  whilst  the  dangers  are 
going  on ;  Henrietta  always  seemed  to  think 
that  the  pleasantest  part ;  but  I  confess  that  I 
think  one  of  the  best  parts  must  be  when  they 
are  over  and  you  are  enjoying  the  credit  of 
them.  When  the  Captain's  adventures  stirred 
me  most,  I  looked  forward  with  a  Jthrill  of 
anticipation  to  my  return  home,  —  modest  from 
a  justifiable  pride  in  my  achievements,  and  so 
covered  with  renown  by  my  deeds  of  daring 
that  I  should  play  second  fiddle  in  the  family 
no  more,  and  that  Rupert  and  Henrietta  would 
outbid  each  other  for  my  "  particular  "  friend- 
ship, and  Baby  Cecil  dog  my  heels  to  hear 
the  stories  of  my  adventures. 

The  thought  of  Baby  Cecil  was  the  heaviest 
pang  I  felt  when  I  was  dissatisfied  with  the 


68  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

idea  of  running  away  from  home.  Baby  Cecil 
was  the  pet  of  the  house.  He  had  been  born 
after  my  father's  death,  and  from  the  day  he 
was  born  everybody  conspired  to  make  much 
of  him.  Dandy,  the  Scotch  terrier,  would  re- 
nounce a  romping  ramble  with  us  to  keep 
watch  over  Baby  Cecil  when  he  was  really  a 
baby  and  was  only  carried  for  a  dull  airing 
in  the  nursemaid's  arms.  I  can  quite  under- 
stand Dandy's  feelings  ;  for  if,  when  one  was 
just  preparing  for  a  paper-chase,  or  anything 
of  that  sort,  Baby  Cecil  trotted  up  and,  fling- 
ing himself  head  first  into  one's  arms,  after 
his  usual  fashion,  cried,  "  Baby  Cecil  'ants 
Charlie  to  tell  him  a  long,  long  story  —  so 
much  / "  it  always  ended  in  one's  giving  up 
the  race  or  the  scramble,  and  devoting  one- 
self as  sedately  as  Dandy  to  his  service.  But 
I  consoled  myself  with  the  thought  of  how 
Baby  Cecil  would  delight  in  me,  and  what 
stories  I  should  be  able  to  tell  him  on  my 
return. 

The  worst  of  running  away  nowadays  is  that 
railways  and  telegrams  run  faster.  I  was  pre- 
pared for  any  emergency  except  that  of  being 
found  and  brought  home  again, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  69 

Thinking  of  this  brought  to  my  mind  one 
of  Fred's  tales  of  the  Captain,  about  how  he 
was  pursued  by  bloodhounds  and  escaped  by 
getting  into  water.  Water  not  only  retains 
no  scent,  it  keeps  no  track.  I  think  perhaps 
this  is  one  reason  why  boys  so  often  go  to 
sea  when  they  run  away,  —  that  no  one  may  be 
able  to  follow  them.  It  helped  my  decision 
that  we  would  go  to  sea  when  we  ran  away, 
—  Fred  and  I.  Besides,  there  was  no  other 
road  to  strange  countries,  and  no  other  way  of 
seeing  the  sea  people  with  the  sou'wester 
heads. 

Fred  did  not  seem  to  have  any  scruples 
about  leaving  his  home,  which  made  me  feel 
how  much  braver  he  must  be  than  I.  But 
his  head  was  so  full  of  the  plans  he  made 
for  us,  and  the  lists  he  drew  up  of  natural 
products  of  the  earth  in  various  places,  on 
which  we  could  live  without  paying  for  our 
living,  that  he  neglected  his  school  work,  and 
got  into  scrapes  about  it.  This  distressed  me 
very  much,  for  I  was  working  my  very  best 
that  half,  on  purpose  that  no  one  might  say 
that  we  ran  away  from  our  lessons,  but  that 
it  might  be  understood  that  we  had  gone 


7O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

solely  in  search  of  adventure,  like  sea-cap- 
tains or  any  other  grown-up  travellers. 

All  Fred's  tales  now  began  with  the  word 
"  suppose."  They  were  not  stories  of  what 
had  happened  to  his  grandfather,  but  of  what 
might  happen  to  us.  The  half-holiday  that 
Mr.  Johnson's  hay  was  carted,  we  sat  behind 
the  farthest  haycock  all  the  afternoon  with 
an  old  atlas  on  our  knees,  and  Fred  "  sup- 
posed "  till  my  brain  whirled  to  think  of  all 
that  was  coming  on  us.  "  Suppose  we  get  on 
board  a  vessel  bound  for  Singapore,  and  hide 
behind  some  old  casks  -  he  would  say, 
coasting  strange  continents  with  his  stumpy 
little  forefinger  as  recklessly  as  the  Captain 
himself ;  on  which,  of  course,  I  asked,  "  What 
is  Singapore  like  ? "  which  enabled  Fred  to 
close  the  atlas  and  lie  back  among  the  hay 
and  say  whatever  he  could  think  of  and  I 
could  believe. 

Meanwhile  we  saved  up  our  pocket-money 
and  put  it  in  a  canvas  bag,  as  being  sailor-like. 
Most  of  the  money  was  Fred's,  but  he  was  very 
generous  about  this,  and  said  I  was  to  take  care 
of  it,  as  I  was  more  managing  than  he.  And 
we  practised  tree-climbing,  to  be  ready  for  the 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  7 1 

masts,  and  ate  earth-nuts  to  learn  to  live  upon 
roots,  in  case  we  were  thrown  upon  a  desert 
island.  Of  course  we  did  not  give  up  our 
proper  meals,  as  we  were  not  obliged  to  yet, 
and  I  sometimes  felt  rather  doubtful  about  how 
we  should  feel,  living  upon  nothing  but  roots  for 
breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea.  However,  I  had  ob- 
served that  whenever  the  Captain  was  wrecked 
a  barrel  of  biscuits  went  ashore  soon  afterwards, 
and  I  hoped  it  might  always  be  so  in  wrecks, 
for  biscuits  go  a  long  way,  —  especially  sailors' 
biscuits,  which  are  large. 

I  made  a  kind  of  handbook  for  adventure- 
seekers,  too,  in  an  old  exercise-book,  showing 
what  might  be  expected  and  should  be  prepared 
for  in  a  career  like  the  Captain's.  I  divided  it 
under  certain  heads  :  Hardships,  Dangers,  Emer- 
gencies, Wonders,  etc.  These  were  subdivided 
again,  thus  :  Hardships  —  i,  Hunger  ;  2,  Thirst ; 
3,  Cold ;  4,  Heat ;  5,  No  clothes ;  and  so  forth. 
I  got  all  my  information  from  Fred,  and  I  read 
my  lists  over  and  over  again,  to  get  used  to  the 
ideas,  and  to  feel  brave.  And  on  the  last  page  I 
printed  in  red  ink  the  word  "  Glory." 

And  so  the  half  went  by  and  came  to  an 
end ;  and  when  the  old  Doctor  gave  me  my 


72  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

three  prizes,  and  spoke  of  what  he  hoped  I 
would  do  next  half,  my  blushes  were  not  solely 
from  modest  pride. 

The  first  step  of  our  runaway  travels  had 
been  decided  upon  long  ago.  We  were  to  go 
by  barge  to  London.  "  And  from  London  you 
can  go  anywhere,"  Fred  said. 

The  day  after  the  holidays  began,  I  saw  a 
canal-boat  loading  at  the  wharf,  and  finding  she 
was  bound  for  London,  I  told  Fred  of  it.  But 
he  said  we  had  better  wait  for  a  barge,  and  that 
there  would  be  one  on  Thursday.  "  Or  if  you 
don't  think  you  can  be  ready  by  then,  we  can 
wait  for  the  next,"  he  added.  He  seemed  quite 
willing  to  wait,  but  (remembering  that  the  Cap- 
tain's preparations  for  his  longest  voyage  had 
only  taken  him  eighteen  and  a  half  minutes  by 
the  chronometer,  which  was  afterwards  damaged 
in  the  diving-bell  accident,  and  which  I  had 
seen  with  my  own  eyes,  in  confirmation  of  the 
story)  I  said  I  should  be  ready  any  time  at  half 
an  hour's  notice,  and  Thursday  was  fixed  as  the 
day  of  our  departure. 

To  facilitate  matters,  it  was  decided  that  Fred 
should  invite  me  to  spend  Wednesday  with 
him,  and  to  stay  all  night,  for  the  barge  was 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  73 

to  start  at  half-past  six  o'clock  on  Thursday 
morning. 

I  was  very  busy  on  Wednesday.  I  wrote  a 
letter  to  my  mother  in  which  I  hoped  I  made  it 
quite  clear  that  ambition,  and  not  discontent, 
was  leading  me  to  run  away.  I  also  made  a 
will,  dividing  my  things  fairly  between  Rupert, 
Henrietta,  and  Baby  Cecil,  in  case  I  should  be 
drowned  at  sea.  My  knife,  my  prayer-book,  the 
ball  of  string  belonging  to  my  kite,  and  my 
little  tool-box  I  took  away  with  me.  I  also 
took  the  match-box  from  the  writing-table,  but 
I  told  mother  of  it  in  the  letter.  The  Captain 
used  to  light  his  fires  by  rubbing  sticks  to- 
gether, but  I  had  tried  it,  and  thought  matches 
would  be  much  better,  —  at  any  rate,  to  begin 
with. 

Rupert  was  lying  under  the  crab-tree,  and 
Henrietta  was  reading  to  him,  when  I  went 
away.  Rupert  was  getting  much  stronger ;  he 
could  walk  with  a  stick,  and  was  going  back  to 
school  next  half.  I  felt  a  very  unreasonable 
vexation  because  they  seemed  quite  cheerful. 
But  as  I  was  leaving  the  garden  to  go  over  the 
fields,  Baby  Cecil  came  running  after  me,  with 
his  wooden  spade  in  one  hand  and  a  plant  of 


74  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

chickweed  in  the  other,  crying,  "  Charlie,  dear ! 
Come  and  tell  Baby  Cecil  a  story."  I  kissed 
him,  and  tied  his  hat  on,  which  had  come  off  as 
he  ran. 

"Not  now,  Baby,"  I  said;  "I  am  going  out 
now,  and  you  are  gardening." 

"  I  don't  want  to  garden,"  he  pleaded. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?  Take  me  with  you." 

"I  am  going  to  Fred  Johnson's,"  I  said 
bravely. 

Baby  Cecil  was  a  very  good  child,  though  he 
was  so  much  petted.  He  gave  a  sigh  of  dis- 
appointment, but  only  said  very  gravely,  "  Will 
you  promise,  onyeronor,  to  tell  me  one  when 
you  come  back  ? " 

"  I  promise  to  tell  you  lots  when  I  come  back, 
on  my  honor,"  was  my  answer. 

I  had  to  skirt  the  garden-hedge  for  a  yard  or 
two  before  turning  off  across  the  meadow.  In 
a  few  minutes  I  heard -a  voice  on  the  other  side. 
Baby  Cecil  had  run  down  the  inside,  and  was 
poking  his  face  through  a  hole,  and  kissing  both 
hands  to  me.  There  came  into  my  head  a  won- 
der whether  his  face  would  be  much  changed 
the  next  time  I  saw  it.  I  little  guessed  when 
and  how  that  would  be.  But  when  he  cried, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  // 

"Come  back  very  soon,  Charlie,  dear,"  my  imper- 
fect valor  utterly  gave  way;  and  hanging  my 
head,  I  ran,  with  hot  tears  pouring  over  my  face, 
all  the  way  to  Johnson's  wharf. 

When  Fred  saw  my  face  he  offered  to  give 
up  the  idea  if  I  felt  faint-hearted  about  it. 
Nothing  that  he  could  have  said  would  have 
dried  my  tears  so  soon.  Every  spark  of  pride 
in  me  blazed  up  to  reject  the  thought  of  turn- 
ing craven  now.  Besides,  I  longed  for  a  life  of 
adventure  most  sincerely  ;  and  I  was  soon  quite 
happy  again  in  the  excitement  of  being  so  near 
to  what  I  had  longed  for. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

WE     GO     ON     BOARD.  THE      PIE.  AN      EXPLO- 
SION.   MR.      ROWE,      THE      BARGEMASTER.  - 

THE      WHITE      LION.  TWO      LETTERS. WE 

DOUBT    MR.    ROWE'S    GOOD    FAITH. 

THE  dew  was  still  heavy  on  the  grass  when 
Fred  and  I  crossed  the  drying  -  ground,  about 
five  o'clock  on  Thursday  morning,  and  scram- 
bled through  a  hedge  into  our  old  "  coast- 
guard "  corner  on  the  wharf.  We  did  not 
want  to  be  seen  by  the  bargemaster  till  we 
were  too  far  from  home  to  be  put  ashore. 

The  freshness  of  early  morning  in  summer 
has  some  quality  which  seems  to  go  straight 
to  the  heart.  I  felt  intensely  happy.  There 
lay  the  barge,  the  sun  shining  on  the  clean 
deck,  and  reflected  from  the  dewy  edges  of 
the  old  ropes,  and  from  the  bargemaster' s  zinc 
basin  and  pail  put  out  to  sweeten  in  the  air. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  79 

"  She  won't  leave  us  behind  this  time !  "  I 
cried,  turning  triumphantly  to  Fred.  - 

"  Take  care  of  the  pie,"  said  Fred. 

It  was  a  meat  pie  which  he  had  taken  from 
the  larder  this  morning ;  but  he  had  told  Mrs. 
Johnson  about  it  in  the  letter  he  had  left  behind 
him,  and  had  explained  that  we  took  it  instead 
of  the  breakfast  we  should  otherwise  have  eaten. 
We  felt  that  earth-nuts  might  not  be  forthcom- 
ing on  the  canal-banks,  or  even  on  the  wharf  at 
Nine  Elms  when  we  reached  London. 

At  about  a  quarter  to  six,  Johnson's  wharf  was 
quite  deserted.  The  bargemaster  was  having 
breakfast  ashore,  and  the  second  man  had  gone 
to  the  stable.  "  We  had  better  hide  ourselves 
now,"  I  said.  So  we  crept  out,  and  went  on 
board.  We  had  chosen  our  hiding-place  before. 
Not  in  the  cabin,  of  course,  nor  among  the 
cargo,  where  something  extra  thrown  in  at  the 
last  moment  might  smother  us,  if  it  did  not  lead 
to  our  discovery,  but  in  the  fore  part  of  the  boat, 
in  a  sort  of  well  or  hold,  where  odd  things  be- 
longing to  the  barge  itself  were  stowed  away, 
and  made  sheltered  nooks  into  which  we  could 
creep  out  of  sight.  Here  we  found  a  very  con- 
venient corner,  and  squatted  down,  with  the  pie 


8O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

at  our  feet,  behind  a  hamper,  a  box,  a  coil  of 
rope,  a  sack  of  hay,  and  a  very  large  ball, 
crossed  four  ways  with  rope,  and  with  a  rope- 
tail,  which  puzzled  me  extremely. 

"  It's  like  a  giant  tadpole/'  I  whispered  to 
Fred. 

"Don't  nudge  me,"  said  Fred.  "My  pockets 
are  full,  and  it  hurts." 

My  pockets  were  far  from  light.  The  money- 
bag was  heavily  laden  with  change,  —  small  in 
value,  but  large  in  coin.  The  box  of  matches 
was  with  it,  and  the  knife.  String,  nails,  my 
prayer-book,  a  pencil,  some  writing-paper,  the 
handbook,  and  a  more  useful  hammer  than  the 
one  in  my  tool-box,  filled  another  pocket.  Some 
gooseberries  and  a  piece  of  cake  were  in  my 
trousers,  and  I  carried  the  tool  -  box  in  my 
hands.  We  each  had  a  change  of  linen,  tied 
up  in  a  pocket-handkerchief.  Fred  would  allow 
of  nothing  else.  He  said  that  when  our  jack- 
ets and  trousers  were  'worn  out  we  must  make 
new  clothes  out  of  an  old  sail. 

Waiting  is  very  dull  work.  After  a  while, 
however,  we  heard  voices,  and  the  tramp  of  the 
horse,  and  then  the  bargemaster  and  Mr.  John- 
son's foreman^  and  other  men,  kept  coming  and 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  8 1 

going  on  deck,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we 
had  as  many  hairbreadth  escapes  of  discovery 
as  the  Captain  himself  could  have  had  in  the 
circumstances.  At  last  somebody  threw  the 
bargemaster  a  bag  of  something  (fortunately 
soft)  which  he  was  leaving  behind,  and  which 
he  chucked  on  to  the  top  of  my  head.  Then  the 
driver  called  to  his  horse,  and  the  barge  gave  a 
jerk  which  threw  Fred  on  to  the  pie,  and  in 
a  moment  more  we  were  gliding  slowly  and 
smoothly  down  the  stream. 

When  we  were  fairly  off  we  ventured  to  peep 
out  a  little  and  stretch  our  cramped  limbs. 
There  was  no  one  on  board  but  the  barge- 
master,  and  he  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
vessel,  smoking  and  minding  his  rudder.  The 
driver  was  walking  on  the  towing-path,  by 
the  old  gray  horse.  The  motion  of  the  boat 
was  so  smooth  that  we  seemed  to  be  lying  still, 
whilst  villages  and  orchards  and  green  banks 
and  osier-beds  went  slowly  by,  as  though  the 
world  were  coming  to  show  itself  to  us,  instead 
of  our  going  to  see  the  world. 

When  we  passed  the  town  we  felt  some 
anxiety  for  fear  we  should  be  stopped ;  but 
there  was  no  one  on  the  bank,  and  though  the 


82  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

towers  of  St.  Philip  and  St.  James  appeared 
again  and  again,  in  lessening  size,  as  we  looked 
back,  there  came  at  last  a  bend  in  the  canal, 
when  a  high  bank  of  gorse  shut  out  the  dis- 
tance, and  we  saw  them  no  more. 

In  about  an  hour,  having  had  no  breakfast, 
we  began  to  speak  seriously  of  the  pie.  (I  had 
observed  Fred  breaking  little  corners  from  the 
crust  with  an  absent  air  more  than  once.) 
Thinking  of  the  first  subdivision  under  the  word 
"  Hardships  "  in  my  handbook,  I  said,  "  I'm  afraid 
we  ought  to  wait  till  we  are  worse  hungry." 

But  Fred  said,  "  Oh,  no  !  "  And  that,  out 
adventure-seeking,  it  was  quite  impossible  to 
save  and  plan  and  divide  your  meals  exactly, 
as  you  could  never  tell  what  might  turn  up. 
The  Captain  always  said,  "  Take  good  luck  and 
bad  luck  and  pot  luck  as  they  come !  "  So 
Fred  assured  me,  and  we  resolved  to  abide  by 
the  Captain's  rule. 

"  We  may  have  to  weigh  out  our  food  with  a 
bullet,  like  Admiral  Bligh,  next  week,"  said  Fred. 

"So  we  may,"  said  I.  And  the  thought 
must  have  given  an  extra  relish  to  the  beef- 
steak and  hard-boiled  eggs,  for  I  never  tasted 
anything  so  good. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  83 

Whether  the  smell  of  the  pie  went  aft,  or 
whether  something  else  made  the  bargemaster 
turn  round  and  come  forward,  I  do  not  know ; 
but  when  we  were  encumbered  with  open  clasp- 
knives  and  full  mouths,  we  saw  him  bearing 
down  upon  us,  and  in  a  hasty  movement  of 
retreat  I  lost  my  balance,  and  went  backward 
with  a  crash  upon  a  tub  of  potatoes. 

The  noise  this  made  was  not  the  worst  part 
of  the  business.  I  was  tightly  wedged  amongst 
the  odds  and  ends,  and  the  money-bag  being 
sharply  crushed  against  the  match-box,  which 
was  by  this  time  well  warmed,  the  matches 
exploded  in  a  body,  and  whilst  I  was  putting 
as  heroic  a  face  as  I  could  on  the  pain  I  was 
enduring  in  my  right  funny-bone,  Fred  cried, 
"  Your  jacket's  smoking!  You're  on  fire  !  " 

Whether  Mr.  Rowe,  the  bargemaster,  had 
learnt  presence  of  mind  out  of  a  book,  I  do  not 
know ;  but  before  Fred  and  I  could  even  think 
of  what  to  do  in  the  emergency,  my  jacket  was 
off,  the  matches  were  overboard,  and  Mr.  Rowe 
was  squeezing  the  smouldering  fire  out  of  my 
pocket  rather  more  deliberately  than  most  men 
brush  their  hats.  Then,  after  civilly  holding 
the  jacket  for  me  to  put  it  on  again,  he  took 


84  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

off  his  hat,  took  his  handkerchief  out  of  it  and 
wiped  his  head,  and  replacing  both,  with  his 
eyes  upon  us,  said,  more  deliberately  still, 
"  Well,  young  gentlemen,  this  is  a  nice  start ! " 

It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  feeling  of  con- 
fidence inspired  by  Mr.  Rowe's  manner,  his 
shrewd  and  solid  appearance,  and  his  prompt- 
ness in  an  emergency.  Besides,  we  were  com- 
pletely at  his  mercy.  We  appealed  to  it,  and 
told  him  our  plans.  We  offered  him  a  share  of 
the  pie  too,  which  he  accepted  with  conscious 
condescension.  When  the  dish  was  empty  he 
brought  his  handkerchief  into  use  once  more, 
and  then  said,  in  a  peculiarly  oracular  manner, 
"  You  just  look  to  me,  young  gentlemen,  and 
I'll  put  you  in  the  way  of  every  think." 

The  immediate  advantage  we  took  of  this 
offer  was  to  ask  about  whatever  interested  us 
in  the  landscape  constantly  passing  before  our 
eyes,  or  the  barge-furniture  at  our  feet.  The 
cord-compressed  balls  were  shore-fenders,  said 
Mr.  Rowe,  arid  were  popped  over  the  side  when 
the  barge  was  likely  to  grate  against  the  shore, 
or  against  another  vessel. 

"Them's  osier-beds.  They  cuts  'em  every 
year  or  so  for  basket-work.  Wot's  that  little 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  85 

bird  a-hanging  head  downwards  ?  It's  a  tit- 
mouse looking  for  insects,  that  is.  There's 
scores  on  'em  in  the  osier-beds.  Aye,  aye, 
the  yellow  lilies  is  pretty  enough,  but  there's 
a  lake  the  other  way  —  a  mile  or  two  beyond 
your  father's,  Master  Fred — where  there's 
white  water-lilies.  They're  pretty,  if  you 
like !  It's  a  rum  thing  in  spring,"  continued 
Mr.  Rowe,  between  puffs  of  his  pipe,  "  to  see 
them  lilies  come  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
canal,  the  leaves  packed  as  neat  as  any  parcel ; 
and  when  they  git  to  the  top,  they  turns  down 
and  spreads  out  on  the  water  as  flat  as  you 
could  spread  a  cloth  upon  a  table." 

As  a  rule,  Mr.  Rowe  could  give  us  no  names 
for  the  aquatic  plants  at  which  we  clutched  as 
we  went  by,  nor  for  the  shells  we  got  out  of 
the  mud  ;  but  his  eye  for  a  water-rat  was  like  a 
terrier's.  It  was  the  only  thing  which  seemed 
to  excite  him. 

About  mid-day  we  stopped  by  a  village, 
where  Mr.  Rowe  had  business.  The  horse 
was  to  rest  and  bait  here ;  and  the  barge- 
master  told  us  that  if  we  had  "a  shilling  or 
so  about "  us,  we  might  dine  on  excellent 
bread  and  cheese  at  the  White  Lion,  or  even 


86  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

go  so  far  as  poached  eggs  and  yet  more  excel- 
lent bacon,  if  our  resources  allowed  of  it.  We 
were  not  sorry  to  go  ashore.  There  was  abso- 
lutely no  shelter  on  the  deck  of  the  barge  from 
the  sunshine,  which  was  glaringly  reflected  by 
the  water.  The  inn  parlor  was  low,  but  it  was 
dark  and  cool.  I  felt  doubtful  about  the  luxury 
even  of  cheese  after  that  beefsteak  pie  ;  but  Fred 
smacked  his  lips  and  ordered  eggs  and  bacon, 
and  I  paid  for  them  out  of  the  canvas-bag. 

As  we  sat  together  I  said,  "  I  wrote  a  letter 
to  my  mother,  Fred.  Did  you  write  to  Mrs. 
Johnson  ? " 

Fred  nodded,  and  pulled  a  scrap  of  dirty  paper 
from  his  pocket,  saying,  "  Tfiat's  the  letter; 
but  I  made  a  tidy  copy  of  it  afterwards." 

I  have  said  that  Fred  was  below  me  in  class, 
though  he  is  older ;  and  he  was  very  bad  at 
spelling.  Otherwise  the  letter  did  very  well, 
except  for  smudges. 

DEAR  MOTHER, 

Charlie  and  I  are  going  to  run  away  at  least  by 
the  time  you  get  this  we  have  run  away  but  never  mind 
for  wen  weve  seen  the  wurld  were  cumming  back  we 
took  the  pi  wich  I  hope  you  won't  mind  as  we  had  no 
brekfust  and  I'll  bring  back  the  dish  we  send  our  best 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  8/ 

love  and  I've  no  more  to  tell  you  to-day  from  your  affec- 
tionate son  FRED. 

I  saw  Mr.  Rowe,  myself,  very  busy  in  the  bar 
of  the  White  Lion,  with  a  sheet  of  paper  and  an 
old  steel  pen,  which  looked  as  if  the  point  had 
been  attenuated  to  that  hair-like  fineness  by  sheer 
age.  He  started  at  the  sight  of  me,  which  caused 
him  to  drop  a  very  large  blot  of  ink  from  the 
very  sharp  point  of  the  pen  on  to  his  paper.  I 
left  him  wiping  it  up  with  his  handkerchief.  But 
it  never  struck  me  that  he  was  writing  a  letter 
on  the  same  subject  as  Fred  and  I  had  been 
writing  about.  He  was,  however,  and  Mr.  John- 
son keeps  it  tied  up  with  Fred's  to  this  day. 
The  spelling  was  of  about  the  same  order. 
"  MR.  JOHNSON.  HONERD  SIR. 

i  rites  in  duty  bound  to  acqaint  you  that  the 
young  genlemen  is  with  me,  looking  out  for  Advenchurs 
and  asking  your  pardon  i  wish  they  may  find  them  as 
innercent  as  2  Babes  in  the  Wood  on  the  London  and 
Lancingford  Canal  were  they  come  aboard  quite  un- 
known to  me  and  blowed  theirselves  up  with  lucifers 
the  fust  go  off  and  youve  no  need  to  trubble  your- 
self sir  ill  keep  my  I  on  them  and  bring  em  safe  to 
hand  with  return  cargo  and  hoping  you'll  excuse  the 
stamp  not  expecting  to  have  to  rite  from  the  fust  stop- 
pige  your  obedient  humble  servant. 

SAMUEL  ROWE." 


88  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

As  I  have  said,  we  did  not  suspect  that  Mr. 
Rowe  had  betrayed  us  by  post ;  but  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon  Fred  said  to  me,  "  I'll 
tell  you  what,  Charlie,  I  know  old  Rowe  well, 
and  he's  up  to  any  trick,  and  sure  to  want  to 
keep  in  with  my  father.  If  we  don't  take  care, 
he'll  take  us  back  with  him.  And  what  fools 
we  shall  look  then  !  " 

The  idea  was  intolerable ;  but  I  warned  Fred 
to  carefully  avoid  betraying  that  we  suspected 
him.  The  Captain  had  had  worse  enemies  to 
outwit,  and  had  kept  a  pirate  in  good  humor 
for  a  much  longer  voyage  by  affability  and  rum. 
We  had  no  means  of  clouding  Mr.  Rowe's  par- 
ticularly sharp  wits  with  grog,  but  we  resolved 
to  be  amiable  and  wary,  and  when  we  did  get  to 
London  to  look  out  for  the  first  opportunity  of 
giving  the  bargemaster  the  slip. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A      COASTING     VOYAGE. MUSK      ISLAND. LIN- 
NET    FLASH. MR.      ROWE     AN      OLD     TAR. 

THE    DOG-FANCIER    AT    HOME. 

IT  was  a  delightful  feature  of  our  first  voy- 
age—  and  one  which  we  could  not  hope  to 
enjoy  so  often  in  voyages  to  come  —  that  we 
were  always  close  to  land,  and  this  on  both 
sides.  We  could  touch  either  coast  without 
difficulty,  and  as  the  barge  stopped  several 
times  during  the  day  to  rest  the  horse,  Fred 
and  I  had  more  than  one  chance  of  going 
ashore. 

I  hope  to  have  many  a  voyage  yet,  and  to 
see  stranger  people  and  places  than  I  saw 
then,  but  I  hardly  hope  ever  to  enjoy  myself 
so  much  again.  I  have  long  ago  found  out 
that  Fred's  stories  of  the  Captain's  adventures 
were  not  true  stories,  and  as  I  have  read  and 
learned  more  about  the  world  than  I  knew 
89 


QO  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

at  that  time,  I  know  now  that  there  are  only 
certain  things  which  one  can  meet  with  by 
land  or  by  sea.  But  when  Fred  and  I  made 
our  first  voyage,  in  emulation  of  his  grand- 
father, there  was  no  limit  to  my  expectations, 
or  to  what  we  were  prepared  to  see  or  ex- 
perience at  every  fresh  bend  of  the  London 
and  Lancingford  Canal. 

I  remember  one  of  Fred's  stories  about  the 
Captain  was  of  his  spending  a  year  and  a  day 
on  an  island  called  Musk  Island,  in  the  Pacific. 
He  had  left  the  ship,  Fred  said,  to  do  a  little 
exploring  alone  in  his  gig.  Not  knowing  at 
that  time  that  the  captain's  gig  is  a  boat,  I  was 
a  good  deal  puzzled,  I  remember,  to  think  of 
Mrs.  Johnson's  red-faced  father  crossing  the 
sea  in  a  gig  like  the  one  Mr.  Bustard  used  to 
go  his  professional  "  rounds  "  in.  And  when 
Fred  spoke  of  his  "  pulling  himself,"  I  was  yet 
more  bewildered  by  the  unavoidable  conclusion 
that  they  had  no  horse  on  board,  and  that  the 
gallant  and  ever-ready  Captain  went  himself 
between  the  shafts.  The  wonder  of  his  get- 
ting to  Musk  Island  in  that  fashion  was,  how- 
ever, eclipsed  by  the  wonders  he  found  when 
he  did  get  there.  Musk-hedges  and  bowers 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  9! 

ten  feet  high,  with  flowers  as  large  as  bind- 
weed blossoms,  and  ladies  with  pale  gold  hair, 
all  dressed  in  straw-colored  satin,  and  with 
such  lovely  faces  that  the  Captain  vowed  that 
no  power  on  earth  should  move  him  till  he  had 
learned  enough  of  the  language  to  propose 
the  health  of  the  Musk  Island  beauties  in  a 
suitable  speech  after  dinner.  "And  there  he 
would  have  lived  and  died,  I  believe,"  Fred 
would  say,  "if  that  first  mate,  who  saved  his 
life  before,  had  not  rescued  him  by  main  force, 
and  taken  him  back  to  "his  ship." 

I  am  reminded  of  this  story  when  I  think 
of  the  island  in  Linnet  Lake,  for  we  were  so 
deeply  charmed  by  it  that  we  very  nearly 
broke  our  voyage,  as  the  Captain  broke  his, 
to  settle  on  it. 

Mr.  Rowe  called  the  lake  Linnet  Flash. 
Wherever  the  canal  seemed  to  spread  out, 
and  then  go  on  again  narrow  and  like  a  river, 
the  bargemaster  called  these  lakes  "  flashes " 
of  the  canal.  There  is  no  other  flash  on  that 
canal  so  large  or  so  beautiful  as  Linnet  Lake, 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  lies  the  island. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock,  the  hottest  part 
of  a  summer's  day,  and  Fred  and  I,  rather 


92  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

faint  with  the  heat,  were  sitting  on  a  coil  of 
rope  holding  a  clean  sheet,  which  Mr.  Rowe 
had  brought  up  from  the  cabin  to  protect  our 
heads  and  backs  from  sunstroke.  We  had 
refused  to  take  shelter  below,  and  sat  watch- 
ing the  fields  and  hedges,  which  seemed  to 
palpitate  in  the  heat  as  they  went  giddily  by, 
and  Mr.  Rowe,  who  stood  quite  steady,  con- 
versing coolly  with  the  driver.  The  driver 
had  been  on  board  for  the  last  hour,  the  way 
being  clear,  and  the  old  horse  quite  able  to 
take  care  of  itself  and  us,  and  he  and  the 
bargemaster  had  pocket-handkerchiefs  under 
their  hats  like  the  sou'wester  flaps  of  the 
Captain's  sea-friends.  Fred  had  dropped  his 
end  of  the  sheet  to  fall  asleep,  and  I  was  pro- 
tecting us  both,  when  the  driver  bawled  some 
directions  to  the  horse  in  their  common  lan- 
guage, and  the  bargemaster  said,  "  Here's  a 
bit  of  shade  for  you,  Master  Fred ; "  and  we 
roused  up  and  found  ourselves  gliding  under 
the  lee  of  an  island  covered  with  trees. 

"  Oh,  do  stop  here !  "  we  both  cried. 

"Well,  I  don't  mind,"  said  Mr.  Rowe,  re- 
moving his  hat,  and  mopping  himself  with 
his  very  useful  pocket-handkerchief.  "Jem, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  93 

there's  a  bit  of  grass  there ;  let  her  have  a 
mouthful." 

"  I  thought  you'd  like  this,"  he  continued ; 
"there  ain't  a  prettier  bit  between  here  and 
Pyebridge." 

It  was  so  lovely  that  the  same  idea  seized 
both  Fred  and  me  :  Why  not  settle  here,  at 
least  for  a  time  ?  It  was  an  uninhabited  island, 
only  waiting  to  be  claimed  by  some  adventurous 
navigator,  and  obviously  fertile.  The  prospect 
of  blackberries  on  the  mainland  was  particularly 
fine,  and  how  they  would  ripen  in  this  blazing 
sun  !  Birds  sang  in  the  trees  above  ;  fish  leap- 
ing after  flies  broke  the  still  surface  of  the 
water  with  a  musical  splash  below ;  and  beyond 
a  doubt  there  must  be  the  largest  and  sweetest 
of  earth-nuts  on  the  island,  easy  to  get  out  of 
the  deep  beds  of  untouched  leaf-mould.  And 
when  Mr.  Rowe  cried,  "  Look ! "  and  we  saw  a 
water-fowl  scud  across  the  lake,  leaving  a  sharp 
trail  like  a  line  of  light  behind  her,  we  felt  that 
we  might  spend  all  our  savings  in  getting  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  not  find  when  we  got 
there  a  place  which  offered  more  natural  re- 
sources to  the  desert  islander. 

If  the  bargemaster  would  have  gone  ashore 


94  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

on  the  mainland,  out  of  the  way,  and  if  we  could 
have  got  ashore  on  the  island  without  help,  we 
should  not  have  confided  our  plans  to  so  doubt- 
ful a  friend.  As  it  was,  we  were  obliged  to  tell 
Mr.  Rowe  that  we  proposed  to  found  a  settle- 
ment in  Linnet  Lake,  and  he  was  completely 
opposed  to  the  idea. 

It  was  only  when  he  said,  —  with  that  air  of 
reserved  and  funded  knowledge  which  gave 
such  unfathomable  depth  to  his  irony,  and 
made  his  sayings  so  oracular, —  "  There's  very 
different  places  in  the  world  to  Linnet  Flash," 
that  we  began  to  be  ashamed  of  our  hasty 
enthusiasm,  and  to  think  that  it  would  be  a  pity 
to  stop  so  short  in  our  adventurous  career. 

So  we  decided  to  go  on;  but  the  masterly 
way  in  which  Mr.  Rowe  spoke  of  the  world 
made  me  think  he  must  have  seen  a  good  deal 
of  it,  and  when  we  had  looked  our  last  upon  the 
island,  and  had  crept  with  lowered  mast  under 
an  old  brick  bridge  where  young  ferns  hung 
down  from  the  archway,  and  when  we  were 
once  more  travelling  between  flat  banks  and 
coppices  that  gave  us  no  shelter,  I  said  to  the 
bargemaster,  "  Have  you  ever  been  at  sea,  Mr. 
Rowe  ? " 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  95 

"  Seventeen  year  in  the  Royal  Navy,"  said 
Mr.  Rowe,  with  a  strong  emphasis  upon  teen, 
as  if  he  feared, we  might  do  him  the  injustice  of 
thinking  he  had  only  served  his  queen  and 
country  for  seven. 

For  the  next  two  hours  Fred  and  I  sat,  in- 
different alike  to  the  sunshine  and  the  shore, 
in  rapt  attention  to  Mr.  Rowe's  narrative  of  his 
experiences  at  sea  under  the  flag  that  has 

"  Braved  a  thousand  years  the  battle  and  the  breeze." 

I  believe  Fred  enjoyed  them  simply  as  stories, 
but  they  fanned  in  my  heart  that  restless  fever 
for  which  sea-breezes  are  the  only  cure.  I 
think  Mr.  Rowe  got  excited  himself  as  he  re- 
called old  times.  And  when  he  began  to  bawl 
sea-songs  with  a  voice  like  an  Atlantic  gale,  and 
when  he  vowed  in  cadence 

"  A  sailor's  life  is  the  life  for  me," 

I  felt  that  it  was  the  life  for  me  also,  and  ex- 
pressed myself  so  strongly  to  that  effect  that 
Mr.  Rowe  became  alarmed  for  the  consequences 
of  his  indiscretion,  and  thenceforward  told  us 
sea-stories  with  the  obvious  and  quite  futile 


96  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

intention  of  disgusting  me  with  what  I  already 
looked  upon  as  my  profession. 

But  the  bargemaster's  rapid  change  of  tactics 
convinced  me  more  and  more  that  we  could  not 
safely  rely  on  him  to  help  us  in  our  plans. 

About  five  o'clock,  he  made  tea  on  board,  and 
boiled  the  water  on  the  little  stove  in  the  cabin. 
I  was  very  anxious  to  help,  and  it  was  I  who 
literally  made  the  tea,  whilst  Mr.  Rowe's  steadier 
hand  cut  thick  slices  of  bread  and  butter  from  a 
large  loaf.  There  was  only  one  cup  and  saucer. 
Fred  and  I  shared  the  cup,  and  the  barge- 
master  took  the  saucer.  By  preference,  he 
said,  as  the  tea  cooled  quicker. 

The  driver  had  tea  after  we  returned  to  the 
deck  and  could  attend  to  the  horse  and  boat. 

Except  the  island  in  Linnet  Lake,  the  most 
entertaining  events  of  the  first  day  of  our  voy- 
age were  our  passing  villages  or  detached  houses 
on  the  canal-banks. 

Of  the  latter  by  far  the  most  interesting  was 
that  of  a  dog-fancier,  from  whose  residence  melo- 
dious howls,  in  the  dog  dialect  of  every  tribe 
deserving  to  be  represented  in  so  choice  a  com- 
pany, were  wafted  up  the  stream,  and  met  our 
ears  before  our  eyes  beheld  the  landing-stage 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


97 


of  the  establishment,  where  the  dog-fancier  and 
some  of  his  dogs  were  lounging  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening,  and  glad  to  see  the  barge. 

The  fancier  knew  Mr.  Rowe,  and  refreshed 
him,  and  us,  with  shandygaff  in  horn  tumblers. 
Some  of  the  dogs  who  did  not,  barked  inces- 
santly at  us,  wagging  their  tails  at  the  same 


time,  however,  as  if  they  had  some  doubts  of 
the  correctness  of  their  judgment  in  the  matter. 
One  very  small,  very  white,  and  very  fluffy 
toy  dog,  with  a  dove-colored  ribbon,  was,  no 
doubt,  incurably  ill-tempered  and  inhospitable ; 
but  a  large  brindled  bull-dog,  trying  politely 
but  vainly  to  hide  his  teeth  and  tongue,  wagged 


98  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

what  the  fancier  had  left  him  of  a  tail,  and 
dribbled  with  the  pleasure  of  making  our  ac- 
quaintance, after  the  wont  of  his  benevolent 
and  much-maligned  family.  I  have  since  felt 
pretty  certain  that  Mr.  Rowe  gave  his  friend  a 
sketch  of  our  prospects  and  intentions  in  the 
same  spirit  in  which  he  had  written  to  Mr. 
Johnson,  and  I  distinctly  overheard  the  dog- 
fancier  make  some  reply,  in  which  the  words 
"hoffer  a  reward"  were  audible.  But  the 
bargem  aster  shook  his  head  at  suggestions 
probably  drawn  from  his  friend's  professional 
tradition,  though  the  fancier  told  him  some 
very  good  story  about  the  ill-tempered  toy  dog, 
to  which  he  referred  with  such  violent  jerks  of 
the  head  as  threatened  to  throw  his  fur  cap  on 
to  that  of  the  brindled  gentleman  who  sat  drip- 
ping and  smiling  at  his  feet. 

When  Mr.  Rowe  began  to  tell  him  something 
good  in  return,  and  in  spite  of  my  utmost  en- 
deavors not  to  hear  anything,  the  words  "  Lin- 
net Flash  "  became  audible,  I  blushed  to  hear 
the  fancier  choking  over  his  shandygaff,  with 
laughter,  I  feared,  at  our  project  for  settling  on 
the  island. 

The   interview  was  now  at  an  end,  but   as 


4   GREAT    EMERGENCY.  99 

Mr.  Rowe  stepped  briskly  on  board,  the  fur  cap 
nodded  to  the  forehatch,  where  Fred  and  I 
were  sitting  on  coiled  ropes,  and  the  fancier 
said  very  knowingly,  "  The  better  the  breed,  the 
gamier  the  beast." 

He  patted  the  bulldog  as  he  said  it,  and  the 
bulldog  kissed  his  dirty  hand. 

"  Hup  to  hanythink,"  were  Mr.  Rowe's  part- 
ing words,  as  we  went  aft  and  the  driver  called 
to  his  horse. 

He  may  have  referred  to  the  bulldog,  but  I 
had  some  doubts  about  it,  even  then. 


CHAPTER    X. 

LOCKS. WE    THINK   OF    GOING    ON    THE    TRAMP. 

—  PYEBRIDGE. WE    SET    SAIL. 

DURING  our  first  day's  voyage  we  passed  two 
locks.  There  was  one  not  very  far  from  home, 
and  Fred  and  I  had  more  than  once  been  to  see 
a  barge  pass  it,  sitting  on  the  bank  whilst  the 
boat  gradually  sank  to  the  level  of  the  water 
below. 

It  was  great  fun  being  on  board  whilst  the 
barge  went  down  and  down,  though  I  must  say 
we  did  not  feel  anything  peculiar,  we  sank  so 
gradually. 

"  Just  fancy  if  it  was  a  hole  in  the  ship's 
bottom,"  said  Fred,  "  and  we  were  settling 
down  with  all  on  board.  Some  ships  do,  and 
are  never  heard  of  again." 

We  amused  ourselves  as  we  went  along  by 

guessing   beforehand  on  which  shore  the  next 

house    or   hamlet    would    appear.     We   betted 

shillings  on  the  result,  but  neither  of  us  won 

icx? 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  IOI 

or  lost,  for  however  often  the  shillings  changed 
hands,  they  remained  in  the  canvas  bag. 

Perhaps  places  look  more  as  if  events  hap- 
pened in  them  if  you  do  not  know  them  well. 
I  noticed  that  even  our  town  looked  more  inter- 
esting from  the  water  than  I  had  ever  seen  it 
look,  'so  I  dare  say  to  strangers  it  does  not 
appear  so  dull  as  it  is.  All  the  villages  on 
the  canal-banks  looked  interesting.  We  passed 
one  soon  after  tea,  where  the  horse  rested 
under  some  old  willows  by  the  towing-path,  and 
we  and  Mr.  Rowe  went  ashore.  Whilst  the 
bargemaster  delivered  a  parcel  to  a  friend,  Fred 
and  I  strolled  into  a  lane  which  led  us  past 
cottages  with  very  gay  gardens,  to  the  church. 
The  church  was  not  at  all  like  St.  Philip  or  St. 
James.  It  was  squat  and  ivy-covered,  and 
carefully  restored;  and  it  stood  in  a  garden 
where  the  flowers  almost  hid  the  graves.  Just 
outside  the  lych-gate,  four  lanes  met,  and  all 
of  them  were  so  shady  and  inviting,  and  it  was 
so  impossible  to  say  what  they  might  not  lead 
to,  that  I  said  to  Fred : 

"  You  said  the  only  way  to  run  away  besides 
going  to  sea  was  to  tramp.  It  sounds  rather 
low,  but  we  needn't  beg,  and  I  think  walking 


IO2  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

would  be  nice  for  a  change,  and  I  don't  believe 
it  would  be  much  slower  than  the  barge,  and  it 
would  be  so  much  shadier ;  and  we  could  get 
off  from  old  Rowe  at  once,  and  hide  if  we 
heard  anybody  coming.  I  wonder  how  far  it 
is  to  London  now  ?  " 

"  Not  far,  I  dare  say,"  said  Fred,  who  was 
pleased  by  the  idea,  "and  if  we  keep  on  we 
must  get  there  in  time.  And  we  can  get 
things  to  eat  in  the  hedges,  which  we  can't 
do  on  the  barge." 

At  this  moment  there  passed  a  boy,  to  whom 
I  said,  "  Which  is  the  way  to  London,  if  you 
please  ? "  for  there  were  four  roads  to  choose 
from. 

"  What  d'say  ?  "  said  the  boy. 

I  repeated  my  question. 

"  Dunno,"  he  replied,  trying  to  cram  half  his 
hand  into  his  mouth.  The  Captain  would  have 
thought  him  very  stupid  if  he  had  met  him  as  a 
native  in  one  of  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  I  am 
sure ;  but  I  followed  him,  and  begged  him  to 
try  and  think  if  he  had  not  heard  of  people 
going  to  London. 

At  last  his  face  brightened.  He  was  looking 
over  my  head  down  the  lane.  "  There's  a  man 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  1 03 

a-cummin'  yonder's  always  a-going  to  Lunnon," 
said  he.  Visions  of  a  companion  on  our  tramp, 
also  perhaps  in  search  of  adventures,  made  me 
look  briskly  around.  "  Him  with  the  pipe,  as 
b'longs  to  the  barge,"  the  boy  explained. 

It  was  indeed  Mr.  Rowe,  come  to  look  for  us, 
and  we  had  to  try  and  seem  glad  to  see  him,  and 
to  go  on  board  once  more. 

Towards  evening  the  canal-banks  became 
dotted  with  fishers  of  all  ages  and  degrees, 
fishing  very  patiently,  though  they  did  not 
seem  to  catch  much. 

Soon  after  dark  we  reached  the  town  of 
Pyebridge. 

When  the  barge  lay  to  for  the  night,  and  the 
driver  was  taking  the  horse  away  to  a  stable, 
Mr.  Rowe  confronted  us,  in  his  firmest  manner, 
with  the  question,  "  And  where  are  you  going 
to  sleep,  young  gentlemen  ?  " 

"Where  are  you  going  to  sleep,  Mr.  Rowe  ?  " 
said  I,  after  a  thoughtful  pause. 

"  /  sleeps  below,  but  the  captain's  cabin  is  guv 
up  to  no  one — unless  it  be  the  Queen,"  replied 
the  bargemaster,  humorously  but  decidedly. 

"  We  should  like  to  sleep  on  deck,"  said  I. 

But    Mr.   Rowe   would   not   hear   of   it,    on 


104  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

account  of  various  dreadful  diseases  which  he 
assured  us  would  be  contracted  by  sleeping 
"in  the  damps  of  the  water,"  "the  dews  of  the 
^air,"  and  "  the  rays  of  the  moon." 

"  There's  a  hotel  —  '  he  began  ;  but  I  said 
at  once,  "We  couldn't  afford  a  hotel;  but  if  you 
know  of  any  very  cheap  place,  we  should  be 
much  obliged." 

Mr.  Rowe  took  off  his  hat  and  took  out  his 
handkerchief,  though  it  was  no  longer  hot. 
Having  cleared  his  brain,  he  said  he  "would 
see,"  and  he  finally  led  -us  along  one  of  the 
pebbled  streets  of  Pyebridge  to  a  small  house, 
with  a  small  shop  window  for  the  sale  of  vege- 
tables, and  with  a  card  announcing  that  there 
were  beds  to  let.  A  very  little  old  woman  got 
up  from  behind  a  very  big  old  geranium  in 
the  window  as  we  entered,  and  with  her  Mr. 
Rowe  made  our  arrangements  for  the  night. 
We  got  a  clean  bed,  and  had  a  mug  of  milk  and 
a  slice  of  bread  and  treacle  apiece  for  breakfast 
the  next  morning,  and  I  paid  two  shillings.  As 
I  thanked  the  old  lady  and  bade  her  good  day, 
she  called  to  me  to  hold  out  my  hat,  which  she 
filled  with  cherries,  and  then  stood  at  the  door 
and  watched  us  out  of  sight. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  1 05 

There  was  a  railway  station  in  Pyebridge,  and 
we  might  easily  have  escaped  from  Mr.  Rowe, 
and  gone  by  train  to  London.  But  besides  the 
fact  that  our  funds  were  becoming  low,  the 
water  had  a  new  attraction  for  us.  We  had 
left  the  canal  behind,  and  were  henceforward 
on  a  river.  If  the  wind  favored  us,  we  were  to 
sail. 

"  A  canal's  nothing  to  a  river,"  said  Mr. 
Rowe,  "  same  as  a  river's  nothing  to  the  sea," 
and  when  Fred  had  some  difficulty  in  keeping 
his  hat  on,  in  the  gusty  street  (mine  was  in 
use  as  a  fruit-basket),  and  the  bargemaster 
said  it  was  a  "nice  fresh  morning,"  I  felt 
that  life  on  Linnet  Island  would  have  been 
tame  indeed  compared  to  the  hopes  and  fears 
of  a  career  which  depended  on  the  winds  and 
waves. 

And  when  the  boom  went  up  the  barge's 
mast,  and  the  tightly  corded  roll  of  dark  canvas 
began  to  struggle  for  liberty,  and  writhe  and 
flap  with  throttling  noises  above  our  heads  ;  and 
when  Mr.  Rowe  wrestled  with  it,  and  the  driver 
helped  him,  and  Fred  and  I  tried  to,  and  were 
all  but  swept  overboard  in  consequence,  whilst 
the  bargemaster  encouraged  himself  by  strange 


IO6  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

and  savage  sounds ;  and  when  the  sunshine 
caught  our  nut-brown  sail,  just  as  she  spread 
gallantly  to  the  breeze,  our  excitement  grew  till 
we  both  cried  in  one  breath  : 

"This  is  something  like  being  at  sea ! " 


CHAPTER    XI. 

MR.    ROWE    ON    BARGE-WOMEN.  THE    RIVER. 

NINE  ELMS. A  MYSTERIOUS   NOISE. ROUGH 

QUARTERS.  --  A       CHEAP       SUPPER.  -  -  JOHN'S 

BERTH. WE       MAKE       OUR      ESCAPE. OUT 

INTO    THE    WORLD. 

MR.  ROWE  is  quite  right.  A  canal  is  noth- 
ing to  a  river. 

There  was  a  wide  piece  of  water  between  us 
and  one  of  the  banks  now,  and  other  barges 
went  by  us,  some  sailing,  some  towing  only, 
and  two  or  three  with  women  at  the  rudder, 
and  children  on  the  deck. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  my  wife  and  fam'ly  on 
board  for  something!"  said  Mr.  Rowe  grimly. 

"  Have  you  got  a  family,  Mr.  Rowe  ? "  I 
inquired. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  bargemaster.  "I  have, 
like  other  folk.  But  women  and  children's 
best  ashore." 

107 


108  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  said  I. 

"  If  you  was  to  turn  over  in  your  mind  what 
they  might  be  good  for,  now,"  he  continued, 
with  an  unfathomable  eye  on  the  mistress  of  a 
passing  canal-boat,  "  you'd  say  washing  the 
decks  and  keeping  the  pots  clean.  And  they 
don't  do  it  as  well  as  a  man,  — not  by  half." 

"  They  seem  to  steer  pretty  well,"  said  I. 

"  I've  served  in  very  different  vessels  to 
what  I'm  in  now,"  said  Mr.  Rowe,  avoiding  a 
reply,  "  and  I  may  come  as  low  as  a  monkey- 
barge  and  coal ;  but  I'm  blessed  if  ever  I  see 
myself  walk  on  the  towing-path  and  leave  the 
missus  in  command  on  board." 

At  this  moment  a  barge  came  sailing  along- 
side of  us. 

"Oh,  look!"  cried  Fred;  "it's  got  a  white 
horse  painted  on  the  sail." 

"That's  a  lime-barge,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Rowe; 
"  all  lime-barges  is  marked  that  way." 

She  was  homeward  bound,  and  empty,  and 
soon  passed  us ;  but  we  went  at  a  pretty  good 
pace  ourselves.  The  wind  kept  favorable,  a 
matter  in  which  Fred  and  I  took  the  deepest 
interest.  We  licked  our  fingers,  and  held  them 
up  to  see  which  side  got  cooled  by  the  breeze, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


and  whenever  this  experiment  convinced  me 
that  it  was  still  behind  us,  I  could  not  help 
running  back  to  Fred  to  say  with  triumph, 
"The  wind's  dead  aft,"  as  if  he  knew  nothing 
about  it. 

At  last  this  seemed  to  annoy  him,  so  I  went 
to  contain  myself  by  sitting  on  the  potato-tub 
and  watching  the  shore. 

We  got  into  the  Thames  earlier  than  usual, 
thanks  to  the  fair  wind. 

The  world  is  certainly  a  very  beautiful  place. 
I  suppose  when  I  get  right  out  into  it,  and  go 
to  sea,  and  to  other  countries,  I  shall  think 
nothing  of  England  and  the  Thames,  but  it  was 
all  new  and  wonderful  to  Fred  and  me  then. 
The  green  slopes  and  fine  trees,  and  the  houses 
with  gardens  down  to  the  river,  and  boats  rock- 
ing by  the  steps,  the  osier  islands,  which  Mr. 
Rowe  called  "aits,"  and  the  bridges  where 
the  mast  had  to  be  lowered  ;  all  the  craft  on  the 
water,  —  the  red-sailed  barges  with  one  man  on 
board,  the  steamers  with  crowded  decks  and 
gay  awnings,  the  schooners,  yachts,  and  pleas- 
ure-boats ;  and  all  the  people  on  shore,  —  the 
fishers,  and  the  people  with  water-dogs  and 
sticks,  the  ladies  with  fine  dresses  and  parasols, 


IIO  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

and  the  ragged  boys  who  cheered  us  as  we  went 
by ;  everything  we  saw  and  heard  delighted 
us,  and  the  only  sore  place  in  my  heart  was 
where  I  longed  for  Rupert  and  Henrietta  to 
enjoy  it  too. 

Later  on  we  saw  London.  It  was  in  the 
moonlight  that  we  passed  Chelsea.  Mr.  Rowe 
pointed  out  the  Hospital,  in  which  the  pension- 
ers must  have  been  asleep,  for  not  a  wooden 
leg  was  stirring.  In  less  than  half  an  hour 
afterwards  we  were  at  the  end  of  our  voyage. 

The  first  thing  which  struck  me  about  Nine 
Elms  was  that  they  were  not  to  be  seen.  I  had 
thought  of  those  elms  more  than  once  under 
the  burning  sun  of  the  first  day.  I  had  imag- 
ined that  we  should  land  at  last  on  some  green 
bank,  where  the  shelter  of  a  majestic  grove 
might  tempt  Mr.  Rowe  to  sleep,  while  Fred 
and  I  should  steal  gently  away  to  the  neighbor- 
ing city,  and  begin  a  quite  independent  search 
for  adventures.  But  I  think  I  must  have  mixed 
up  with  my  expectations  a  story  of  one  of  the 
Captain's  escapes,  —  from  a  savage  chief  in  a 
mango-grove. 

Our  journey's  end  was  not  quite  what  I  had 
thought  it  would  be,  but  it  was  novel  and 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  Ill 

interesting  enough.  We  seemed  to  nave  thor- 
oughly got  to  the  town.  Very  old  houses,  with 
feeble  lights  in  their  paper-patched  windows, 
made  strange  reflections  on  the  river.  The 
pier  looked  dark  and  dirty  even  by  moonlight, 
and  threw  blacker  and  stranger  shadows 
still. 

Mr.  Rowe  was  busy,  and  tired,  and,  we 
thought,  a  little  inclined  to  be  cross. 

"  I  wonder  where  we  shall  sleep  ?  "  said  Fred, 
looking  timidly  up  at  the  dark  old  houses. 

I  have  said  before  that  I  find  it  hard  work  to 
be  very  brave  after  dark,  but  I  put  a  good  face 
on  the  matter,  and  said  I  dared  say  old  Rowe 
would  find  us  a  cheap  bedroom. 

"  London's  an  awful  place  for  robbers  and 
murders,  you  know,"  said  Fred. 

I  was  hoping  the  cold  shiver  running  down 
my  back  was  due  to  what  the  bargemaster 
called  "  the  damps  from  the  water,"  when 
a  wail  like  the  cry  of  a  hurt  child  made  my 
skin  stiffen  into  goose-prickles.  A  wilder 
moan  succeeded,  and  then  one  of  the  windows 
of  one  of  the  dark  houses  was  opened,  and 
something  thrown  out,  which  fell  heavily  down. 
Mr.  Rowe  was  just  coming  on  board  again,  and 


112  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

I  found  courage  in  the  emergency  to  gasp  out, 
"What  was  that?" 

"  Wot's  wot  ?  "  -said  Mr.  Rowe  testily. 

"  That  noise  and  the  falling  thing." 

"  Somebody  throwing  somethin'  at  a  cat," 
said  the  bargemaster.  "  Stand  aside,  sir,  if 
you  please." 

It  was  a  relief,  but  when  at  length  Mr. 
Rowe  came  up  to  me  with  his  cap  off,  in 
the  act  of  taking  out  his  handkerchief,  and 
said,  "  I  suppose  you're  no  richer  than  you 
was  yesterday,  young  gentlemen,  —  how  about 
a  bed  ?  "  I  said,  "  No  —  o.  That  is,  I  mean, 
if  you  can  get  us  a  cheap  one  in  a  safe  —  I 
mean  a  respectable  place  — 

"  If  you  leaves  a  comfortable  'ome,  sir,"  mor- 
alized the  bargemaster,  "  to  go  a-looking  for 
adventures  in  this  fashion,  you  must  put  up 
with  rough  quarters,  and  wot  you  can  get." 

"We'll  go  anywhere  you  think  right,  Mr. 
Rowe,"  said  I  diplomatically. 

"  I  knows  a  waterman,"  said  Mr.  Rowe, 
"that  was  in  the  Royal  Navy  like  myself. 
He  lives  near  here,  and  they're  decent  folk. 
The  place  is  a  poor  place,  but  you'll  have  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  young  gentlemen,  and  a 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  113 

shilling  '11  cover  the  damage.  If  you  wants 
supper,  you  must  pay  for  it.  Give  the  missis 
the  money,  and  she'll  do  the  best  she  can,  and 
bring  you  the  change  to  a  half-farthing." 

My  courage  was  now  fully  restored,  but  Fred 
was  very  much  overwhelmed  by  the  roughness 
of  the  streets  we  passed  through,  the  drunken, 
quarrelling,  poverty-struck  people,  and  the  grim, 
dirty  old  houses. 

"We  shall  be  out  of  it  directly,"  I  whis- 
pered, and  indeed  in  a  few  minutes  more  Mr. 
Rowe  turned  up  a  shabby  entry,  and  led  us  to 
one  of  several  lower  buildings  round  a  small  court. 
The  house  he  stopped  at  was  cleaner  within 
than  without,  and  the  woman  was  very  civil. 

"It's  a  very  poor  place,  sir,"  said  she,  "but 
we  always  keep  a  berth,  as  his  father  calls  it, 
for  our  son  John." 

"  But  we  can't  take  your  son's  bed,"  said 
I;  "we'll  sit  up  here,  if  you  will  let  us." 

"  Bless  ye,  love,"  said  the  woman,  "  John's 
in  foreign  parts.  He's  a  sailor,  sir,  like  his 
father  before  him ;  but  John's  in  the  mer- 
chant service." 

Mr.  Rowe  now  bade  us  good-night.  "  I'll  be 
round  in  the  morning,"  said  he. 


114  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"What  o'clock,  Mr.  Rowe  ? "  I  asked  ;  I  had 
a  reason  for  asking. 

"  There  ain't  much  in  the  way  of  return 
cargo,"  he  replied;  "but  I've  a  bit  of  business 
to  do  for  your  father,  Mr.  Fred,  that'll  take 
me  until  half-past  nine.  I'll  be  here  by  then, 
young  gentlemen,  and  show  you  about  a  bit." 

"  It's  roughish  quarters  for  you,"  added  the 
bargemaster,  looking  around,  "  but  you'll  find 
rougher  quarters  at  sea,  Master  Charles." 

Mr.  Rowe's  moralizings  nettled  me,  and  they 
did  no  good,  for  my  whole  thoughts  were  now 
bent  on  evading  his  guardianship  and  getting 
to  sea,  but  poor  Fred  was  quite  overpowered. 
"  I  wish  we  were  safe  home  again,"  he  almost 
sobbed  when  I  went  up  to  the  corner  into 
which  he  had  huddled  himself. 

"  You'll  be  all  right  when  we're  afloat," 
said  I. 

"I'm  so  hungry,"  he  moaned. 

I  was  hungry  myself,  and  decided  to  order 
some  supper,  so  when  the  woman  came  up  and 
civilly  asked  if  she  could  do  anything  for  us 
before  we  went  to  bed,  I  said,  "  If  you  please, 
we're  rather  hungry,  but  we  can't  afford  any- 
thing very  expensive.  Do  you  think  you 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  115 

can  get  us  anything  —  rather  cheap  —  for 
supper  ?  " 

"A  red  herring,"  she  suggested, 

"  What  price  are  they  ? "  I  felt  bound  to 
inquire. 

"  Mrs.  Jones  has  them  beautiful  and  mild  at 


two  for  a  penny.  You  can  get  'em  at  three  a 
penny,  but  you  wouldn't  like  'em,  sir." 

I  felt  convinced  by  the  expression  of  her  face 
that  I  should  not,  so  I  ordered  two. 

"And  a  penny  loaf?"  suggested  our  land- 
lady, getting  her  bonnet  from  behind  the  door. 


I  1 6  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"  If  you  please." 

"  And  a  bunch  of  radishes  and  a  pint  of  four- 
penny  would  be  fivepence-halfpenny  the  lot, 
sir." 

"  If  you  please.  And,  if  you  please,  that  will 
do,"  said  I,  drawing  a  shilling  from  the  bag,  for 
the  thought  of  the  herrings  made  me  ravenous, 
and  I  wanted  her  to  go.  She  returned  quickly 
with  the  bread  and  herrings.  The  "four- 
penny  "  proved  to  be  beer.  She  gave  me  six- 
pence-halfpenny in  change,  which  puzzled  my 
calculations. 

"You  ^i&fourpenny"  said  I,  indicating  the 
beer. 

"Yes,  sir,  but  it's  a  pint,"  was  the  reply; 
and  it  was  only  when,  in  after  years,  I  learned 
that  beer  at  fourpence  a  quart  is  known  to  some 
people  as  "fourpenny,"  that  I  got  that  part  of 
the  reckoning  of  the  canvas  bag  straight  in  my 
own  mind. 

The  room  had  an  unwholesome  smell  about 
it,  which  the  odor  from  our  fried  herrings  soon 
pleasantly  overpowered.  The  bread  was  good, 
and  the  beer  did  us  no  harm.  Fred  picked  up 
his  spirits  again,  and  when  Mr.  Rowe's  old 
mate  came  home,  he  found  us  very  cheerful  and 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  1 1  7 

chatty.  Fred  asked  him  about  the  son  who 
was  at  sea,  but  I  had  some  more  important 
questions  to  put,  and  I  managed  so  to  do,  and 
with  a  sufficiently  careless  air. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  lots  of  ships  at  Lon- 
don? "  said  I. 

"  In  the  docks,  sir,  plenty,"  said  our  host. 

"And  where  are  the  docks?"  I  inquired. 
"  Are  they  far  from  you  ?  " 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,  there's  a  many  docks. 
There's  the  East  India  Docks,  St.  Katherine's 
Docks,  and  the  Commercial  Docks,  and  Vic- 
toria Docks,  and  lots  more." 

I  pondered.  Ships  in  the  East  India  Dock 
probably  went  only  to  India.  St.  Katherine 
conveyed  nothing  to  my  mind.  I  did  not  fancy 
Commercial  Docks.  I  felt  a  loyal  inclination 
towards  the  Victoria  Dock. 

"  How  do  people  get  from  here  to  Victoria 
Dock  now,  if  they  want  to  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Well,  of  course,  sir,  you  can  go  down  the 
river,  or  part  that  way,  and  then  by  rail  from 
Fenchurch  Street." 

"Where  is  Fenchurch  Street,  Mr.  Smith?" 
said  I,  becoming  a  good  deal  ashamed  of  my 
pertinacity. 


I  1 8  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

"  In  the  city,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Smith. 

The  city !  Now,  I  never  heard  of  any  one 
in  any  story  going  out  into  the  world  to  seek 
his  fortune,  and  coming  to  a  city,  who  did  not 
go  into  it  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen.  Leaving 
the  king's  only  daughter  and  those  kind  of 
things,  which  belong  to  story-books,  out  of  the 
question,  I  do  not  believe  the  Captain  would 
have  passed  a  new  city  without  looking  into 
it. 

"  You  go  down  the  river  to  Fenchurch  Street 
-  in  a  barge?  "  I  suggested. 

"  Bless  ye,  no,  sir !  "  said  Mr.  Smith,  getting 
the  smoke  of  his  pipe  down  his  throat  the  wrong 
way  with  laughing,  till  I  thought  his  coughing 
fit  would  never  allow  him  to  give  me  the  impor- 
tant information  I  required.  "There's  boats, 
sir,  plenty  on  'em,  —  I  could  take  you  myself, 
and  be  thankful,  —  and  there's  steamers  calls  at 
the  wharf  every  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so 
through  the  day,  from  nine  in  the  morning,  and 
takes  you  to  London  Bridge  for  threepence. 
It  ain't  many  minutes'  walk  to  Fenchurch 
Street,  and  the  train  takes  you  straight  to  the 
Docks." 

After  this  we  conversed  on  general  seafaring 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  I  IQ 

matters.  Mr.  Smith  was  not  a  very  able-bodied 
man,  in  consequence  of  many  years'  service  in 
unhealthy  climates,  he  said ;  and  he  complained 
of  his  trade  as  a  "  poor  one,"  and  very  different 
from  what  it  had  been  in  his  father's  time,  and 
before  new  London  Bridge  was  built,  which 
"anybody  and  anything  could  get  through" 
now,  without  watermen's  assistance.  In  his 
present  depressed  condition  he  seemed  to  look 
back  on  his  seafaring  days  with  pride  and 
tender  regret,  and  when  we  asked  for  tales  of 
his  adventures  he  was  checked  by  none  of  the 
scruples  which  withheld  Mr.  Rowe  from  en- 
couraging me  to  be  a  sailor. 

"John's  berth"  proved  to  be  a  truckle-bed 
in  a  closet  which  just  held  it,  and  which  also 
held  more  nasty  smells  than  I  could  have  be- 
lieved there  was  room  for.  Opening  the  win- 
dow seemed  only  to  let  in  fresh  ones.  When 
Fred  threw  himself  on  his  face  on  the  bed,  and 
said,  "  What  a  beastly  hole  !  "and  cried  bitterly, 
I  was  afraid  he  was  going  to  be  ill ;  and  when  I 
had  said  my  prayers  and  persuaded  him  to  say 
his  and  come  to  bed,  I  thought  that  if  we  got 
safely  through  the  night  we  would  make  the 
return  voyage  with  Mr.  Rowe,  and  for  the 


I2O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

future  leave  events  and  emergencies  to  those 
who  liked  danger  and  discomfort. 

But  when  we  woke  with  the  sun  shining  on 
our  faces,  and  through  the  little  window  beheld 
it  sparkling  on  the  river  below  us,  and  on  the 
distant  city,  we  felt  all  right  again,  and  stuck  to 
our  plans. 

"  Let's  go  by  the  city,"  said  Fred ;  "  I  should 
like  to  see  some  of  the  town." 

"  If  we  don't  get  off  before  half  past  nine, 
we're  lost,"  said  I. 

We  found  an  unexpected  clog  in  Mr.  Smith, 
who  seemed  inclined  to  stick  to  us  and  repeat 
the  stories  he  had  told  us  overnight.  At  about 
half  past  eight,  however,  he  went  off  to  his 
boat,  saying  he  supposed  we  should  wait  for 
Mr.  Rowe ;  and  when  his  wife  went  into  a 
neighbor's  house,  I  laid  a  shilling  on  the  table, 
and  we  slipped  out  and  made  our  way  to  the 
pier. 

Mr.  Rowe  was  not  there,  and  a  church  clock 
near  struck  nine.  This  was  echoed  from  the 
city  more  than  once,  and  then  we  began  to  look 
anxiously  for  the  steamer.  Five,  ten  minutes 
must  have  passed  —  they  seemed  hours  to  me 
—  when  I  asked  a  man  who  was  waiting  also, 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  121 

when  the  steamer  for  London  Bridge  would 
come. 

"  She'll  be  here  soon,"  said  he. 

"  So  will  old  Rowe,"  whispered  Fred. 

But  the  steamer  came  first,  and  we  went  on 
board,  and  the  paddles  began  to  splash,  and  our 
escape  was  accomplished. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning,  and  the  tall,  dirty 
old  houses  looked  almost  grand  in  the  sunlight 
as  we  left  Nine  Elms.  The  distant  city  came 
nearer  and  shone  brighter,  and  when  the  fretted 
front  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament  went  by  us 
like  a  fairy  palace,  and  towers  and  blocks  of 
buildings  rose  solidly  one  behind  another  in 
shining  tints  of  white  and  gray  against  the  blue 
summer  sky,  and  when  above  the  noise  of  our 
paddle-wheels  came  the  distant  roar  of  the  busy 
streets,  Fred  pressed  the  arm  I  had  pushed 
through  his  and  said,  "  We're  out  in  the  world 
at  last ! " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EMERGENCIES     AND      POLICEMEN.  --  FENCHURCH 

STREET    STATION. THIRD    CLASS    TO    CUSTOM 

HOUSE. A  SHIP    FOREST. 

POLICEMEN  are  very  useful  people.  I  do  not 
know  how  we  should  have  got  from  the  London 
Bridge  pier  to  the  Fenchurch  Street  Station  if 
it  had  not  been  that  Fred  told  me  he  knew  one 
could  ask  policemen  the  way  to  places.  There 
is  nothing  to  pay,  which  I  was  very  glad  of,  as 
the  canvas  bag  was  getting  empty. 

Once  or  twice  they  helped  us  through  emer- 
gencies. We  had  to  go  from  one  footpath  to 
another,  straight  across  the  street,  and  the 
street  was  so  full  of  carts  and  cabs  and  drays 
and  omnibuses,  that  one  could  see  that  it  was 
quite  an  impossibility.  We  did  it,  however,  for 
the  policeman  made  us.  I  said,  "  Hadn't  we 
better  wait  till  the  crowd  has  gone  ?"  But  the 
policeman  laughed,  and  said  then  we  had  better 

122 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  123 

take  lodgings  close  by  and  wait  at  the  window. 
So  we  did  it.  Fred  said  the  Captain  once  ran 
in  a  little  cutter  between  two  big  ships  that 
were  firing  into  him,  but  I  do  not  think  that 
can  have  been  much  worse  than  running 
between  a  backing  dray  full  of  rolling  barrels, 
and  a  hansom  cab  pulled  up  and  ramping 
like  a  rocking-horse  at  the  lowest  point  of  the 
rockers. 

When  we  were  safely  on  the  other  pavement, 
we  thanked  the  policeman  very  much,  and  then 
went  on,  asking  our  way  till  we  got  to  Fenchurch 
Street. 

If  anything  could  smell  nastier  than  Johns' 
berth  in  Nine  Elms,  it  is  Fenchurch  Street  Sta- 
tion. And  I  think  it  is  worse  in  this  way : 
John's  berth  smelt  horribly,  but  it  was  warm 
and  weather-tight ;  you  never  swallow  a  drop 
of  pure  air  in  Fenchurch  Street  Station,  and 
yet  you  cannot  find  a  corner  in  which  you  can 
get  out  of  the  draughts. 

With  one  gale  blowing  on  my  right  from  an 
open  door,  and  another  gale  blowing  on  my  left 
down  some  steps,  and  nasty  smells  blowing  from 
every  point  of  the  compass,  I  stood  at  a  dirty 
little  hole  in  a  dirty  wooden  wall  and  took  our 


124  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

tickets.  I  had  to  stand  on  tiptoe  to  make  the 
young  man  see  me. 

"What  is  the  cheapest  kind  of  tickets  you 
have,  if  you  please  ? "  I  inquired,  with  the  can- 
vas bag  in  my  hand. 

"Third  class,"  said  the  young  man,  staring 
very  hard  at  me,  which  I  thought  rather  rude. 
"  Except  working  men's  tickets,  and  they're  not 
for  this  train." 

"Two  third-class  tickets  for  Victoria  Dock, 
then,  if  you  please,"  said  I. 

"  Single  or  return  ?  "  said  he. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  I  said,  for  I  was 
puzzled. 

"Are  you  coming  back  to-day  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  "  said  I,  for  some  of  the  Cap- 
tain's voyages  had  lasted  for  years ;  but  the 
question  made  me  anxious,  as  I  knew  nothing 
of  railway  rules,  and  I  added,  "Does  it  matter?" 

"Not  by  no  means,"  replied  the  young  man 
smartly,  and  he  began  to  whistle,  but  stopped 
himself  to  ask,  "  Custom  House  or  Tidal 
Basin  ? " 

I  had  no  alternative  but  to  repeat,  "  I  beg 
your  pardon  ? " 

He  put  his  face  right  through  the  hole  and 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  125 

looked  at  me.  "  Will  you  take  your  tickets  for 
Custom  House  or  Tidal  Basin  ? "  he  repeated. 
"Either  will  do  for  Victoria  Docks." 

"Then,  whichever  you  please,"  said  I  as 
politely  as  I  could. 

The  young  man  took  out  two  tickets  and 
snapped  them  impatiently  in  something,  and 
as  a  fat  woman  was  squeezing  me  from  behind, 
I  was  glad  to  take  what  I  could  get  and  go  back 
to  Fred. 

He  was  taking  care  of  our  two  bundles  and 
the  empty  pie-dish. 

That  pie-dish  was  a  good  deal  in  our  way. 
Fred  wanted  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  said  he  was 
sure  his  mother  would  not  want  us  to  be  both- 
ered with  it ;  but  Fred  had  promised  in  his 
letter  to  bring  it  back,  and  he  could  not  break 
his  word.  I  told  him  so,  but  I  said  as  he  did 
not  like  to  be  seen  with  it  I  would  carry  it.  So 
I  did. 

With  a  strong  breeze  aft,  we  were  driven 
upstairs  in  the  teeth  of  a  gale,  and  ran  before 
a  high  wind  down  a  platform  where,  after  annoy- 
ing one  of  the  railway  men  very  much  by  not 
being  able  to  guess  which  was  the  train  and 
having  to  ask  him,  we  got  in  among  a  lot  of 


126  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

rough-looking  people,  who  were  very  civil  and 
kind.  A  man  with  a  black  face  and  a  white 
jacket  said  he  would  tell  us  when  we  got  to 
Custom  House,  and  he  gave  me  his  seat  by  the 
window,  that  I  might  look  out. 

What  struck  me  as  rather  odd  was  that  every- 
body in  the  third-class  carriage  seemed  to  have 
bundles  like  ours,  and  yet  they  couldn't  all  be 
running  away.  One  thin  woman  with  a  very 
troublesome  baby  had  three.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  portmanteaus  and  things  of  that  sort 
are  rather  expensive. 

Fred  was  opposite  to  me.  It  was  a  bright, 
sunny  morning,  a  fresh  breeze  blew,  and  in  the 
sunlight  the  backs  of  endless  rows  of  shabby 
houses  looked  more  cheerful  than  usual,  though 
very  few  of  the  gardens  had  anything  in  them 
but  dirt  and  cats,  and  very  many  of  the  win- 
dows had  the  week's  wash  hanging  out  on  strings 
and  poles.  The  villages  we  had  passed  on  the 
canal-banks  all  looked  pretty  and  interesting, 
but  I  think  that  most  of  the  places  we  saw  out 
of  the  window  of  the  train  would  look  very  ugly 
on  a  dull  day. 

I  fancy  there  were  poplar-trees  at  a  place 
called  Poplar,  and  I  thought  it  must  be  called 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

after  them;  but  Fred  says,  No,  and  we  have 
never  been  there  since,  so  I  cannot  be  sure 
about  it.  If  not,  I  must  have  dreamed  it. 

I  did  fall  asleep  in  the  corner,  I  know ;  I  was 
so  very  much  tired,  and  we  had  had  no  break- 
fast, and  I  sat  on  the  side  where  the  wind 
blows  in,  which  I  think  helped  to  make  me 
sleepy.  I  was  wakened  partly  by  the  pie-dish 
slipping  off  my  lap,  and  partly  by  Fred  saying 
in  an  eager  tone  : 

"  Oh,  Charlie!    Look!    Are  they  all  ships?" 

We  stuffed  our  heads  through  the  window, 
and  my  hat  was  nearly  blown  away,  so  the  man 
with  the  black  face  and  the  white  jacket  gave 
it  to  the  woman  with  the  troublesome  baby  to 
take  care  of  for  me,  and  he  held  us  by  our 
legs  for  fear  we  should  fall  out. 

On  we  flew !  There  was  wind  enough  in 
our  faces  to  have  filled  the  barge  sail  three 
times  over,  and  Fred  licked  his  lips  and  said, 
"I  do  believe  there's  salt  in  it!" 

But  what  he  woke  me  up  to  show  me  drove 
me  nearly  wild.  When  I  had  seen  a  couple 
of  big  barges  lying  together,  with  their  two 
bare  masts  leaning  towards  each  other,  I  used 
to  think  how  dignified  and  beautiful  they 


128  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

looked.  But  here  were  hundreds  of  masts, 
standing  as  thick  as  tree-trunks  in  a  fir-wood ; 
and  they  were  not  bare  poles,  but  lofty  and 
slender,  and  crossed  by  innumerable  yards,  and 
covered  with  ropes  in  orderly  profusion,  which 
showed  in  the  sunshine  as  cobwebs  shine  out 
in  a  field  in  summer.  Gay  flags  and  pennons 
fluttered  in  the  wind  ;  brown  sails,  gray  sails, 
and  gleaming  white  sails  went  up  and  down  ; 
and  behind  it  all  the  water  sparkled  and  daz- 
zled our  eyes  like  the  glittering  reflections 
from  a  mirror  moving  in  the  sun. 

As  we  ran  nearer  the  ropes  looked  thicker, 
and  we  could  see  the  devices  on  the  flags. 
And  suddenly,  straining  his  eyes  at  the  yards 
of  a  vessel  in  the  thick  of  the  ship-forest,  on 
which  was  something  black,  like  a  spider  with 
only  four  legs,  Fred  cried,  "  It's  a  sailor  !  " 

I  saw  him  quite  well.  And  seeing  him 
higher  up  than  on  any  tree  one  could  ever 
climb,  with  the  sunny  sky  above  him  and  the 
shining  water  below  him,  I  could  only  mutter 
out  with  envious  longing,  "  How  happy  he 
must  be  ! " 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A      DIRTY     STREET.  A     BAD      BOY.  SHIPPING 

AND     MERCHANDISE. WE     STOW     AWAY     ON 

BOARD     THE    "  ATALANTA."     -  A    SALT     TEAR. 

THE  man  in  the  white  jacket  helped  us  out, 
smiling  as  he  did  so,  so  that  his  teeth  shone 
like  ivory  in  his  black  face.  We  took  the  pie- 
dish  and  our  bundles,  and  thanked  him  very 
much,  and  the  train  went  on  and  took  him 
with  it,  which  we  felt  sorry  for.  For  when 
one  is  out  in  the  world,  you  know,  one  some- 
times feels  rather  lonely,  and  sorry  to  part 
with  a  kind  friend. 

Everybody  else  went  through  a  little  gate 
into  the  street,  so  we  did  the  same.  It  was 
a  very  dirty  street,  with  houses  on  one  side 
and  the  railway  on  the  other.  There  were 
cabbages  and  carrots,  and  old  shoes  and  fishes' 
heads,  and  oyster-shells  and  potato-peelings  in 
the  street,  and  a  goat  was  routing  among  it 
129 


I3O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

all  with  its  nose,  as  if  it  had  lost  something 
and  hoped  to  find  it  by  and  by. 

Places  like  this  always  seemed  to  depress 
Fred's  courage.  Besides  which,  he  was  never 
in  good:  .spirits  when  he  had  to  go  long  with- 
out food,  which  made  me  fear  he  would  not 
bear  being  cast  adrift  at  sea  without  provi- 
sions as  well  as  his  grandfather  had  done.  I 
was  not  surprised  when  he  said  : 

"  What  a  place !  And  I  don't  believe  one 
can  get  anything  fit  to  eat,  and  I  am  so 
hungry ! " 

I  looked  at  the  houses.  There  was  a  pork- 
butcher's  shop,  and  a  real  butcher's  shop,  and 
a  slop  shop,  and  a  seedy  jeweller's  shop  with 
second-hand  watches,  which  looked  as  if  noth- 
ing would  ever  make  them  go,  and  a  small 
toy  and  sweetmeat  shop,  but  not  a  place  that 
looked  like  breakfast.  I  had  taken  Fred's 
bundle  because  he  was  so  tired,  and  I  suppose 
it  was  because  I  was  staring  helplessly  about 
that  a  dirty  boy,  a  good  deal  bigger  than  either 
of  us,  came  up  and  pulled  his  dirty  hair  and 
said  : 

"  Carry  your  things  for  you,  sir  ? " 

"  No,   thank  you,"  said   I,  moving   on  with 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  131 

the  bundles  and  the  pie-dish  ;  but  as  the  boy 
would  walk  by  me,   I  said: 

"  We  want  some  breakfast  very  much,  but 
we  haven't  much  money."  And,  remembering 
the  cost  of  our  supper,  I  added,  "  Could  we 


get  anything  here  for  about  twopence-half- 
penny or  threepence  apiece  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  the 
boy  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"  Vy,  I  thought  you  wos  swells  !  "  said  he. 

I  really  do  not  know  whether  it  was  because 
I  did  not  like  to  be  supposed  to  be  a  poor  per- 
son, when  it  came  to  the  point ;  or  whether  it 


132  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

was  because  of  that  bad  habit  of  mine  of  which 
even  Weston's  ballad  has  not  quite  cured  me,— 
of  being  ready  to  tell  people  more  about  my 
affairs  than  it  can  be  interesting  for  them  to 
hear  or  discreet  for  me  to  communicate,  —  but 
I  replied  at  once,  "We  are  gentlemen,  but  we 
are  going  in  search  of  adventures,  and  we  don't 
want  to  spend  more  money  than  we  can  help 
till  we  see  what  we  may  want  it  for  when  we 
get  to  foreign  countries." 

"  You're  going  to  sea,  then,  hare  you  ?  "  said 
the  boy,  keeping  up  with  us. 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  but  could  you  tell  us  where 
to  get  something  to  eat  before  we  go? " 

"  There's  a  shop  I  knows  on,"  said  our  new 
friend,  "where  they  sells  prime  pudding  at  a 
penny  a  slice.  The  plums  go  all  through  and 
no  mistake.  Three  slices  would  be  threepence : 
one  for  you,  one  for  him,  and  one  for  my  trouble 
in  showing  you  the  way.  Threepence  more's 
a  quart  of  stout,  and  we  drink  fair  by  turns. 
Shall  I  take  your  purse  and  pay  it  for  you  ? 
They  might  cheat  a  stranger." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  I,  "  but  we  should  like 
some  pudding,  if  you  will  show  us  the  way." 

The  slices  were  small,  but  then  they  were 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  133 

very  heavy.  We  had  two  each.  I  rejected 
the  notion  of  porter,  and  Fred  said  he  was 
not  thirsty  ;  but  I  turned  back  again  into  the 
shop  to  ask  for  a  glass  of  water  for  myself. 
The  woman  gave  it  me  very  civilly,  looking,  as 
she  did  so,  with  a  puzzled  manner  first  at  me 
and  then  at  my  bundles  and  the  pie-dish.  As 
she  took  back  the  tumbler  she  nodded  her  head 
towards  the  dirty  boy,  who  stood  in  the  doorway, 
and  said  : 

"  Is  that  young  chap  a  companion  of  yours, 
my  dear  ? " 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  I ;  "only  he  showed  us 
the  way  here." 

"Don't  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,"  she 
whispered  ;  "  he's  a  bad  un." 

In  spite  of  this  warning,  however,  as  there 
was  no  policeman  to  be  seen,  and  the  boy  would 
keep  up  with  us,  I  asked  him  the  way  to  Vic- 
toria Dock. 

It  was  not  so  easy  to  get  to  the  ships  as  I  had 
expected.  There  were  gates  to  pass  through, 
and  they  were  kept  by  a  porter.  He  let  some 
people  in  and  turned  others  back. 

"  Have  you  got  an  order  to  see  the  docks  ?  " 
asked  the  boy. 


134  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

I  confessed  that  we  had  not,  but  added  that 
we  wanted  very  much  to  get  in. 

"  My  eyes !  "  said  the  bad  boy,  doubling  him- 
self in  a  fit  of  amusement,  "  I  believe  you're 
both  going  for  stowaways  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean  by  stowaways?"  I 
asked. 

"  Stowaways  is  chaps  that  hides  aboard  ves- 
sels going  out  of  port,  to  get  their  passage  free 
gratis  for  nothing." 

"  Do  a  good  many  manage  it  ?  "  I  asked  with 
an  anxious  mind. 

"  There  ain't  a  vessel  leaves  the  docks  without 
one,  and  sometimes  more  aboard.  The  captain 
never  looks  that  way,  not  by  no  accident  what- 
soever. He  don't  lift  no  tarpaulins  while  the 
ship's  in  dock,  but  when  she  gets  to  sea  the 
captain  gets  his  eyesight  back,  and  he  takes  it 
out  of  the  stowaways  for  their  wittles  then. 
Oh,  yes,  rather  so !  "  said  the  bad  boy. 

There  was  a  crowd  at  the  gates. 

"  Hold  your  bundles  down  on  your  right 
side,"  said  the  boy,  "and  go  in  quickly  after 
any  respectable-looking  cove  you  see." 

Fred  had  got  his  own  bundle  now,  and  we 
followed  our  guide's  directions,  and  went  through 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  135 

the  gates  after  an  elderly,  well-dressed  man. 
The  boy  seemed  to  try  to  follow  us,  squeezing 
very  close  up  to  me,  but  the  gatekeeper  stopped 
him.  When  we  were  on  the  other  side  I  saw 
him  bend  down  and  wink  backwards  at  the  gate- 
keeper through  his  straddled  legs.  Then  he 
stood  derisively  on  his  head.  After  which  he 
went  away  as  a  catherine-wheel,  and  I  saw  him 
no  more. 

We  were  among  the  ships  at  last !  Vessels 
very  different  from  Mr.  Rowe's  barge,  or  even 
the  three-penny  steamboat.  Lofty  and  vast, 
with  shining  decks  of  marvellous  cleanliness, 
and  giant  figureheads  like  dismembered  Jins 
out  of  some  Arabian  tale.  Streamers  of  many 
colors  high  up  in  the  forest  of  masts,  and  sea- 
men of  many  nations  on  the  decks  and  wharves 
below,  moved  idly  in  the  breeze,  which  was 
redolent  of  many  kinds  of  cargo.  Indeed,  if 
the  choice  of  our  ship  had  not  been  our  chief 
care,  the  docks  and  warehouses  would  have 
fascinated  us  little  less  than  the  shipping. 
Here  were  huge  bales  of  cotton,  packed  as 
thickly  as  bricks  in  a  brick-field  ;  there  were 
wine-casks  innumerable ;  and  in  another  place 
the  air  was  aromatic  with  so  large  a  cargo  of 


136  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

coffee  that  it  seemed  as  if  no  more  could  be 
required  in  this  country  for  some  generations. 

It  was  very  entertaining,  and  Fred  was  always 
calling  to  me  to  look  at  something  new,  but  my 
mind  was  with  the  shipping.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  anxiety  on  it,  too.  The  sooner  we  chose 
our  ship  and  "stowed  away,"  the  better.  I  hesi- 
tated between  sailing  vessels  and  steamers.  I 
did  not  believe  that  one  of  the  Captain's  adven- 
tures happened  on  board  any  ship  that  could 
move  faster  than  it  could  sail.  And  yet  I  was 
much  attracted  by  some  grand-looking  steam- 
ships. Even  their  huge  funnels  had  a  look  of 
power,  I  thought,  among  the  masts,  like  old  and 
hollow  oaks  in  a  wood  of  young  and  slender 
trees. 

One  of  these  was  close  in  dock,  and  we  could 
see  her  well.  There  were  some  casks  on  deck, 
and  by  them  lay  a  piece  of  tarpaulin  which 
caught  my  eye,  and  recalled  what  the  bad  boy 
had  said  about  captains  and  stowaways.  Near 
the  gangway  were  standing  two  men  who  did 
not  seem  to  be  sailors.  They  were  respectably 
dressed,  one  had  a  book  and  a  pencil,  and  they 
looked,  I  thought,  as  if  they  might  have  author- 
ity to  ask  our  business  in  the  docks,  so  I  drew 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  137 

Fred  back  under  shelter  of  some  piled -up 
boxes. 

"When  does  she  sail?"  asked  the  man  with 
the  book. 

"To-morrow  morning,  sir,"  replied  the  other. 

And  then  they  crossed  the  gangway  and  went 
into  a  warehouse  opposite. 

It  was  noon,  and  being  the  men's  dinner- 
time, the  docks  were  not  very  busy.  At  this 
moment  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight.  I  grasped 
Fred's  arm,  and  hoisted  the  bundle  and  pie-dish 
well  under  my  own. 

"That's  our  ship,"  I  said  triumphantly; 
"come  along!  " 

We  crossed  the  gangway  unperceived.  "  The 
casks ! "  I  whispered,  and  we  made  our  way  to 
the  corner  I  had  noticed.  If  Fred's  heart  beat 
as  chokingly  as  mine  did,  we  were  far  too  much 
excited  to  speak,  as  we  settled  ourselves  into  a 
corner,  not  quite  as  cosy  as  our  hiding-place  in 
the  forehold  of  the  barge,  and  drew  the  tarpau- 
lin over  our  heads,  resting  some  of  the  weight 
of  it  on  the  casks  behind,  that  we  might  not  be 
smothered. 

I  have  waited  for  the  kitchen  kettle  to  boil 
when  Fred  and  I  wanted  to  make  "hot  grog" 


138  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

with  raspberry  -  vinegar  and  nutmeg  at  his 
father's  house ;  I  have  waited  for  a  bonfire  to 
burn  up  when  we  wanted  to  roast  potatoes ; 
I  have  waited  for  it  to  leave  off  raining  when 
my  mother  would  not  let  us  go  out  for  fear  of 
catching  colds ;  but  I  never  knew  time  to  pass 
so  slowly  as  when  Fred  and  I  were  stowaways 
on  board  the  steamship  Atalanta. 

He  was  just  beginning  to  complain,  when  we 
heard  men  coming  on  board.  This  amused  us 
for  a  bit,  but  we  were  stowed  so  that  we  could 
not  see  them,  and  we  dared  not  look  out.  Neither 
dared  we  speak,  except  when  we  heard  them  a 
good  way  off,  and  then  we  whispered.  So,  sec- 
ond after  second,  and  minute  after  minute,  and 
hour  after  hour  went  by,  and  Fred  became  very 
restless. 

"  She's  to  sail  in  the  morning,"  I  whispered. 

"  But  where  are  we  to  get  dinner  and  tea  and 
supper  ?  "  asked  Fred  indignantly.  I  was  tired, 
and  felt  cross  on  my  own  account. 

"  You  said  yourself  we  might  have  to  weigh 
out  our  food  with  a  bullet,  like  Admiral  Bligh, 
next  week." 

"  He  must  have  had  something,  or  he  couldn't 
have  weighed  it,"  retorted  Fred;  "and  how  do 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  139 

we  know  if  they'll  ever  give  us  anything  to  eat 
on  board  this  ship  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  we  can  buy  food  at  first,  till  they 
find  us  something  to  do  for  our  meals,"  said  I. 

"  How  much  money  is  there  left  ? "  asked  Fred. 

I  put  my  hand  into  my  pocket  for  the  canvas 
bag,  —  but  it  was  gone  ! 

There  could  be  little  doubt  that  the  bad  boy 
had  picked  my  pocket  at  the  gate,  but  I  had  a 
sense  of  guiltiness  about  it,  for  most  of  the 
money  was  Fred's.  This  catastrophe  com- 
pletely overwhelmed  him,  and  he  cried  and 
grumbled  till  I  was  nearly  at  my  wits'  end. 
I  could  not  stop  him,  though  heavy  steps  were 
coming  quite  close  to  us. 

"  Sh  !  Sh  !  "  muttered  I ;  "if  you  go  on  like 
that  they'll  certainly  find  us,  and  then  we  shall 
have  managed  all  this  for  nothing,  and  might  as 
well  have  gone  back  with  old  Rowe." 

"  Which,  wind  and  weather  permitting,  young 
gentlemen,  you  will,"  said  a  voice  just  above  us, 
though  we  did  not  hear  it. 

"I  wish  we  could,"  sobbed  Fred;  "only 
there's  no  money  now.  But  I'm  going  to  get 
out  of  this  beastly  hole,  anyway." 

"  You're  a  nice  fellow  to  tell  me  about  your 


I4O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

grandfather,"  said  I,  in  desperate  exasperation ; 
"  I  don't  believe  you've  the  pluck  for  a  com- 
mon sailor,  let  alone  a  great  discoverer." 

"  You've  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  there, 
Master  Charles,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Fiddlesticks  about  my  grandfather  !  "  said 
Fred. 

In  the  practical  experiences  of  the  last  three 
days  my  faith  in  Fred's  tales  had  more  than 
once  been  rather  rudely  shaken  ;  but  the  con- 
temptuous tone  in  which  he  disposed  of  our 
model,  the  Great  Sea-Captain,  startled  me  so 
severely  that  I  do  not  think  I  felt  any  addi- 
tional shock  of  astonishment  when  strong 
hands  lifted  the  tarpaulin  from  our  heads,  and 
—  grave  amid  several  grinning  faces  —  we 
saw  the  bargemaster. 

How  he  reproached  us,  and  how  Fred  begged 
him  to  take  us  home,  and  how  I  besought  him 
to  let  us  go  to  sea,  it  would  be  tedious  to 
relate.  I  have  no  doubt  now  that  he  never 
swerved  from  his  intention  of  taking  us  back, 
but  he  preferred  to  do  it  by  fair  means  if 
possible.  So  he  fubbed  me  off,  and  took  us 
round  the  docks  to  amuse  us,  and  talked  of 
dinner  in  a  way  that  went  to  Fred's  heart. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  143 

But  when  I  found  that  we  were  approaching 
the  gates  once  more,  I  stopped  dead  short. 
As  we  went  about  the  docks  I  had  replied  to 
the  bargemaster's  remarks  as  well  as  I  could, 
but  I  had  never  ceased  thinking  of  the  desire 
of  my  heart,  and  I  resolved  to  make  one  pas- 
sionate appeal  to  his  pity. 

"  Mr.  Rowe,"  I  said,  in  a  choking  voice, 
"please  don't  take  me  home!  I  would  give 
anything  in  the  world  to  go  to  sea.  Why 
shouldn't  I  be  a  sailor,  when. I  want  to?  Take 
Fred  home  if  he  wants  to  go,  and  tell  them 
that  I'm  all  right,  and  mean  to  do  my  duty 
and  come  back  a  credit  to  them." 

Mr.  Rowe's  face  was  inscrutable,  and  I 
pleaded  harder. 

"  You're  an  old  navy  man,  you  know,  Rowe," 
I  said,  "  and  if  you  recommended  me  to  the  cap- 
tain of  one  of  these  ships  for  a  cabin-boy,  I'll 
be  bound  they'd  take  me." 

"  Mr.  Charles, ' '  said  the  old  man  earnestly, "  you 
couldn't  go  for  a  cabin-boy  ;  you  don't  know  — 

"  You  think  I  can't  rough  it,"  I  interrupted 
impatiently,  "but  try  me,  and  see.  I  know 
what  I'm  after,"  I  added  consequentially,  "and 
I'll  bear  what  I  have  to  bear,  and  do  what  I'm 


144  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

set  to  do,  if  I  can  get  afloat.  I'll  be  a  captain  some 
day,  and  give  orders  instead  of  taking  them." 

Mr.  Rowe  drew  up  to  attention  and  took  off 
his  hat.  "  And  wanting  an  able-bodied  sea- 
man in  them  circumstances,  sir,  for  any  voy- 
age you  likes  to  make,"  said  he  emphatically, 
"call  for  Samuel  Rowe."  He  then  wiped  the 
passing  enthusiasm  from  the  crown  of  his  head 
with  his  handkerchief,  and  continued,  —  with 
the  judicious  diplomacy  for  which  he  was  re- 
markable,—  "  But  of  course,  sir,  it's  the  Royal 
Navy  you'll  begin  in,  as  a  midshipman.  It's 
seamanship  you  wants  to  learn,  not  swabbing 
decks  or  emptying  buckets  below  whilst  others 
is  aloft.  Your  father's  son  would  be  a  good 
deal  out  of  place,  sir,  as  a  cabin-boy  in  a  com- 
mon trading  vessel." 

Mr.  Rowe's  speech  made  an  impression,  and 
I  think  he  saw  that  it  did. 

"  Look  here,  Master  Charles,"  said  he, 
"  you've  a  gentleman's  feelings  ;  come  home 
now,  and  bear  me  out  with  your  widowed 
mother  and  your  only  sister,  sir,  and  with 
Master  Fred's  father,  that  I'm  in  duty  bound 
to,  and  promised  to  deliver  safe  and  sound  as 
return  cargo,  wind  and  weather  permitting." 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  145 

"  Oh,  come  home  !  come  home  !  "  reiterated 
Fred. 

I  stood  speechless  for  a  minute  or  two.  All 
around  and  above  me  rose  the  splendid  masts, 
trellised  with  the  rigging  that  I  longed  to 
climb.  The  refreshing  scent  of  tar  mingled 
with  the  smells  of  the  various  cargoes.  The 
coming  and  going  of  men  who  came  and  went 
to  and  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  stirred  all  my 
pulses  to  restlessness.  And  above  the  noises 
of  their  coming  and  going  I  heard  the  lapping 
of  the  water  of  the  incoming  tide  against  the 
dock,  which  spoke  with  a  voice  more  powerful 
than  that  of  Mr.  Rowe. 

And  yet  I  went  with  him. 

It  was  not  because  the  canvas  bag  was  empty, 
not  because  Fred  would  not  stay  with  me  (for 
I  had  begun  to  think  that  the  Captain's  grand- 
son was  not  destined  to  be  the  hero  of  exploits 
on  the  ocean) ;  but  when  Mr.  Rowe  spoke  of  my 
widowed  mother  and  of  Henrietta,  he  touched 
a  sore  spot  on  my  conscience.  I  had  had  an 
uneasy  feeling  from  the  first  that  there  was 
something  rather  mean  in  my  desertion  of 
them.  Pride,  and  I  hope  some  less  selfish 
impulse,  made  me  feel  that  I  could  never  be 


146  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

quite  happy  —  even  on  the  mainmast-top  —  if 
I  knew  that  I  had  behaved  ill  to  them. 

I  could  not  very  well  speak,  but  I  turned 
round  and  began  to  walk  in  the  direction  of 
the  dock -gates.  Mr.  Rowe  behaved  uncom- 
monly kindly.  He  said  nothing  more,  but 
turned  as  if  I  had  given  the  word  of  command, 
and  walked  respectfully  just  behind  me.  I  re- 
solved not  to  look  back,  and  I  did  not.  I  was 
quite  determined,  too,  about  one  thing  :  Mr. 
Rowe  should  never  be  able  to  say  he  had  seen 
me  make  a  fool  of  myself  after  I  had  made 
up  my  mind.  But  in  reality  I  had  very  hard 
work  to  keep  from  beginning  to  cry,  just  when 
Fred  was  beginning  to  leave  off. 

I  screwed  up  my  eyes  and  kept  them  dry, 
however.  But  as  we  went  through  the  gate 
there  came  in  a  sailor  with  a  little  bundle  like 
ours,  and  a  ship's  name  on  his  hat.  His  hat  sat 
as  if  a  gale  were  just  taking  it  off,  and  his  sea- 
blue  shirt  was  blown  open  by  breezes  that  my 
back  was  turned  upon.  In  spite  of  all  I  could 
do,  one  tear  got  through  my  eyelashes  and  ran 
down,  and  I  caught  it  on  my  lips. 

It  was  a  very  bitter  tear,  and  as  salt  as  the 
salt,  salt  sea ! 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A  GLOW  ON  THE  HORIZON. A  FANTASTIC  PEAL. 

-  WHAT  I  SAW  WHEN  THE  ROOF  FELL  IN. 

IT  was  the  second  day  of  our  return  voyage. 
Mr.  Rowe  had  been  very  kind,  and  especially 
so  to  me.  He  had  told  us  tales  of  seafaring 
life,  but  they  related  exclusively  to  the  Royal 
Navy,  and  not  unfrequently  bore  with  dispar- 
agement on  the  mercantile  marine. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  are  grades  of  rank  more 
strongly  marked,  with  professional  discipline  and 
personal  independence  better  combined,  than  in 
the  army  and  navy.  But  the  gulf  implied  by 
Mr.  Rowe  between  the  youngest  midshipman 
and  the  highest  seaman  who  was  not  an  officer 
was,  I  think,  in  excess  of  the  fact.  As  to  be- 
coming cabin-boy  to  a  trading  vessel  in  hopes 
of  rising  to  be  a  captain,  the  bargemaster  con- 
trived to  impress  me  with  the  idea  that  I  might 
as  well  take  the  situation  of  boot  and  knife- 


148  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

cleaner  in  the  royal  kitchen,  in  hopes  of  its 
proving  the  first  step  towards  ascending  the 
throne. 

We  seemed  to  have  seen  and  done  so  much 
since  we  were  on  the  canal  before,  that  I  felt 
quite  sentimental  as  we  glided  into  Linnet 
Flash. 

"The  old  place  looks  just  the  same,  barge- 
master,"  said  I,  with  a  travelled  air. 

"  So  it  do,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Rowe,  and  he  added, 
"There's  no  place  like  home." 

I  hardly  know  how  near  we  were  to  the  town, 
but  I  know  that  it  was  getting  late,  that  the 
dew  was  heavy  on  the  towing-path,  and  that 
among  the  dark  pencilled  shadows  of  the  sal- 
lows in  the  water  the  full  moon's  reflection  lay 
like  a  golden  shield,  when  the  driver,  who  was 
ahead,  stepped  back  and  shouted,  "  The  bells  are 
ringing !  " 

When  we  got  a  little  nearer  we  heard  them 
quite  clearly,  and  just  when  I  was  observing 
a  red  glow  diffuse  itself  in  the  cold  night  sky 
above  the  willow  hedge  on  our  left,  Mr.  Rowe 
said,  "There  must  be  a  queer  kind  of  echo 
somewhere ;  I  heard  sixteen  bells." 

And   then   I   saw  the   driver,  whose   figure 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  149 

stood  out  dark  against  the  moonlit  moorland 
on  our  right,  point  with  his  arm  to  the  fast 
crimsoning  skv,  and  Mr.  Rowe  left  the  rudder 
and  came  forward,  and  Fred,  who  had  had  his 
head  low  down,  listening,  ran  towards  us  from 
the  bows  and  cried  : 

"  There  are  sixteen,  and  they're  ringing  back- 
wards, —  it's  a  fire  !  ' ' 

The  driver  mounted  the  horse,  which  was  put 
to  the  trot,  and  we  hurried  on.  The  bells  came 
nearer  and  nearer  with  their  fantastic  clanging, 
and  the  sky  grew  more  lurid  as  they  rang. 
Then  there  was  a  bend  in  the  canal,  and  we 
caught  sight  of  the  two  towers  of  St.  Philip 
and  St.  James,  dark  against  the  glow. 

"The  whole  town  is  in  flames  !  "  cried  Fred. 

"Not  it,"  said  the  bargemaster ;  "it's  ten  to 
one  nothing  but  a  rubbish-heap  burning,  or  the 
moors  on  fire  beyond  the  town." 

Mr.  Rowe  rather  snubbed  Fred,  but  I  think 
he  was  curious  about  the  matter.  The  driver 
urged  his  horse,  and  the  good  barge  Betsy 
swung  along  at  a  pace  to  which  she  was  little 
accustomed. 

When  we  came  by  the  cricket-field  Mr.  Rowe 
himself  said,"  It's  in  the  middle  of  the  town." 


I5O  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

Through  the  deafening  noise  of  the  bells  I 
contrived  to  shout  in  his  ear  a  request  that 
I  might  be  put  ashore,  as  we  were  now  about 
on  a  level  with  my  home.  Mr.  Rowe  ran  a 
plank  quickly  out  and  landed  me,  without  time 
for  adieux. 

I  hastened  up  to  the  town.  The  first  street 
I  got  into  was  empty,  but  it  seemed  to  vibrate 
to  St.  Philip's  peal.  And  after  that  I  pushed  my 
way  through  people,  hurrying  as  I  was  hurrying, 
and  the  nearer  I  got  to  home  the  thicker  grew 
the  crowd  and  the  ruddier  became  the  glow. 
And  now,  in  spite  of  the  bells,  I  caught  other 
noises.  The  roar  of  irresistible  fire, —  which 
has  a  strange  likeness  to  the  roar  of  irresistible 
water, —  the  loud  crackling  of  the  burning  wood, 
and  the  moving  and  talking  of  the  crowd,  which 
was  so  dense  that  I  could  hardly  get  forward. 

I  contrived  to  squeeze  myself  along,  however, 
and  as  I  turned  into  our  street  I  felt  the  warmth 
of  the  fire,  and  when  I  looked  at  my  old  home 
it  was  a  mass  of  flames. 

I  tried  to  get  people  to  make  way  for  me 
by  saying,  "  It's  my  house ;  please  let  me 
through !  "  But  nobody  seemed  to  hear  me. 
And  yet  there  was  a  pause,  which  was  only 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

% 

filled  by  that  curious  sound  when  a  crowd  of 
people  gasp  or  sigh  ;  and  if  every  man  had  been 
a  rock  it  could  not  have  been  more  impossible 
to  move  backwards  or  forwards.  It  was  dark, 
except  for  the  moonlight,  where  I  stood,  but  in 
a  moment  or  two  the  flames  burst  from  the 
bedroom  windows,  and  the  red  light  spread 
farther,  and  began  to  light  up  faces  near  me. 
I  was  just  about  to  appeal  to  a  man  I  knew, 
when  a  roar  began  which  I  knew  was  not  that 
of  the  fire.  It  was  the  roar  of  human  voices. 
And  when  it  swelled  louder,  and  was  caught  up 
as  it  came  along,  and  then  broke  into  deafening 
cheers,  I  was  so  wild  with  excitement  and  anxi- 
ety that  I  began  to  kick  the  legs  of  the  man  in 
front  of  me  to  make  him  let  me  go  to  the  home 
that  was  burning  before  my  eyes. 

What  he  would  have  done  in  return,  I  don't 
know,  but  at  this  moment  the  crowd  broke  up, 
and  we  were  pushed,  pressed,  and  jostled  about, 
and  people  kept  calling  to  "  Make  way !  "  and 
after  tumbling  down,  and  being  picked  up  twice, 
I  found  myself  in  the  front  row  of  a  kind  of 
lane  that  had  been  made  through  the  crowd, 
down  which  several  men  were  coming,  carrying 
on  their  shoulders  an  armchair  with  people  in  it. 


152  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

* 

As  they  passed  me  there  was  a  crash,  which 
seemed  to  shake  the  street.  The  roof  of  our 
house  had  fallen  in  ! 

As  it  fell,  the  flames  burst  up  on  every  side, 
and  in  the  sudden  glare  the  street  became  as 
bright  as  day,  and  every  little  thing  about  one 
seemed  to  spring  into  sight.  Half  the  crowd  was 
known  to  me  in  a  moment. 

Then  I  looked  at  the  chair  which  was  being 
carried  along ;  and  by  a  large  chip  on  one  of 
the  legs  I  knew  it  was  my  father's  old  arm- 
chair. 

And  in  the  chair  I  saw  Rupert  in  his  shirt 
and  trousers,  and  Henrietta  in  a  petticoat  and 
an  outdoor  jacket,  with  so  white  a  face  that 
even  the  firelight  seemed  to  give  it  no  color, 
and  on  her  lap  was  Baby  Cecil  in  his  night- 
gown, with  black  smut  marks  on  his  nose  and 
chin. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
HENRIETTA'S  DIARY. —  A  GREAT  EMERGENCY. 

RUPERT  never  was  a  fellow  who  could  give 
descriptions  of  things,  and  Henrietta  was  ill  for 
some  time  after  the  fire,  and  Mr.  Bustard  said 
she  wasn't  to  talk  about  it. 

But  she  knew  I  wanted  to  know,  so  one  day 
when  she  was  downstairs  with  me  in  the  "  Min- 
iature Room  "  (it  was  at  the  Castle),  she  gave  me 
a  manuscript  book,  and  said,  "  It's  my  diary, 
Charlie,  so  I  know  you  won't  look.  But  I've 
put  in  two  marks  for  the  beginning  and  end  of 
the  bit  about  the  fire.  I  wrote  it  that  evening, 
you  know,  before  Mr.  Bustard  came,  and  my 
head  got  so  bad." 

Of  course  I  made  her  show  me  exactly  where 
to  begin  and  leave  off,  and  then  I  read  it.  This 
was  it : 

"  It  had  been  a  very  hot  day,  and  I  had  got  rather  a 
headache  and  gone  to  bed.     The  pain  kept  me  awake  a 
153 


154  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

good  bit,  and  when  I  did  get  to  sleep  I  think  I  slept 
rather  lightly.  I  was  partly  awakened  by  noises  which 
seemed  to  have  been  going  in  my  head  all  night  till  I 
could  bear  them  no  longer,  so  I  woke  up,  and  found 
that  people  were  shouting  outside,  and  that  there  was  a 
dreadful  smell  of  burning.  I  had  got  on  my  flannel 
petticoat  when  Rupert  called  me  and  said, '  Henny,  dear, 
the  house  is  on  fire !  Just  put  something  round  you, 
and  come  quickly.' 

"Just  outside  the  door  we  met  Cook;  she  said,  *  The 
Lord  be  thanked;  it's  you,  Miss  Henrietta!  Come 
along  ! ' 

"  Rupert  said,  '  Where's  Mother,  Cook  ?  ' 
"  « Missus  was  took  with  dreadful    fainting  fits,'  she 
replied,    '  and    they've    got    her    over    to    the    Crown. 
We're    all    to  go   there,    and  everything    that    can    be 
saved.' 

"'Where's  Baby,'  said  I,  'and  Jane?' 
" '  With  your  ma,  miss,  I  expect,'  Cook  said ;  and  as 
we  came  out  she  asked  some  one,  who  said,  «  I  saw 
Jane  at  the  door  of  the  Crown  just  now.'  I  had  been 
half  asleep  till  then,  but  when  we  got  into  the  street 
and  saw  the  smoke  coming  out  of  the  dining-room 
window,  Rupert  and  I  wanted  to  stay  and  try  to  save 
something,  but  one  of  the  men  who  was  there  said, 
'You  and  your  brother's  not  strong  enough  to  be  of 
no  great  use,  miss ;  you're  only  in  the  way  of  the 
engine.  Everybody's  doing  their  best  to  save  your 
things,  and  if  you'll  go  to  the  Crown  to  your  mamma, 
you'll  do  the  best  that  could  be.' 

"  The  people    who   were    saving   our    things    saved 


A    GREAT   EMERGENCY.  155 

them  all  alike,  —  they  threw  them  out  of  the  window,  — 
and  as  I  had  seen  the  big  blue  china  jar  smashed  to 
shivers,  I  felt  a  longing  to  go  and  show  them  what 
to  do ;  but  Rupert  said,  '  The  fellow's  quite  right, 
Henny,'  and  he  seized  me  by  the  hand  and  dragged 
me  off  to  the  Crown.  Jane  was  in  the  hall,  looking 
quite  wild,  and  she  said  to  us,  '  Where's  Master  Cecil  ?  ' 
I  didn't  stop  to  ask  her  how  it  was  that  she  didn't 
know.  I  ran  out  again,  and  Rupert  came  after  me. 
I  suppose  we  both  looked  up  at  the  nursery  window 
when  we  came  near,  and  there  was  Baby  Cecil  stand- 
ing and  screaming  for  help.  Before  we  got  to  the 
door  other  people  had  seen  him,  and  two  or  three 
men  pushed  into  the  house.  They  came  out  gasping 
and  puffing,  without  Cecil,  and  I  heard  one  man  say, 
«  It's  too  far  gone.  It  wouldn't  bear  a  child's  weight, 
and  if  you  got  up,  you'd  never  come  down  again.' 

"  '  God  help  the  poor  child  ! '  said  the  other  man, 
who  was  the  chemist,  and  had  a  large  family,  I  know. 
I  looked  round  and  saw  by  Rupert's  face  that  he  had 
heard.  It  was  like  a  stone.  I  don't  know  how  it 
was,  but  it  seemed  to  come  into  my  head  :  « If  Baby 
Cecil  is  burned  it  will  kill  Rupert  too.'  And  I  be- 
gan to  think,  and  I  thought  of  the  back,  stairs.  There 
was  a  pocket-handkerchief  in  my  jacket  pocket,  and  I 
soaked  it  in  the  water  on  the  ground.  The  town  bur- 
gesses wouldn't  buy  a  new  hose  when  we  got  the  new 
steam  fire-engine,  and  when  they  used  the  old  one  it 
burst  in  five  places,  so  that  everything  was  swimming, 
for  the  water  was  laid  on  from  the  canal.  I  think 
my  idea  must  have  been  written  on  my  face,  for  though 


IS6 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


I  didn't  speak,  Rupert  seemed  to  guess  at  once,  and 
he  ran  after  me,  crying,  *  Let  me  go,  Henrietta ! '  but  I 
pretended  not  to  hear. 

"  When  we  got  to  the  back  of  the  house  the  fire  was 
not  nearly  so  bad,  and  we  got  in.  But  though  it  wasn't 
exactly  on  fire  where  we  were,  the  smoke  came  rolling 
down  the  passage  from  the  front  of  the  house,  and  by 
the  time  we  got  to  the  back  stairs  we  could  not  see  or 
breathe,  in  spite  of  wet  cloths  over  our  faces,  and  our 


eyes  smarted  with  the  smoke.  '  Go  down  on  all  fours, 
Henny,'  said  Rupert.  So  I  did.  It  was  wonderful. 
When  I  got  down  with  my  face  close  to  the  ground 
there  was  a  bit  of  quite  fresh  air,  and  above  this  the 
smoke  rolled  like  a  cloud.  I  could  see  the  castors  of 
the  legs  of  a  table  in  the  hall,  but  no  higher  up.  In 
this  way  we  saw  the  foot  of  the  back  stairs,  and  climbed 
up  them  on  our  hands  and  knees.  But  in  spite  of  the 
bit  of  fresh  air  near  the  ground  the  smoke  certainly 
grew  thicker,  and  it  got  hotter  and  hotter,  and  we 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 


could  hear  the  roaring  of  the  flames  coming  nearer, 
and  the  clanging  of  the  bells  outside,  and  I  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  feel  thirst  before  then  !  When  we  were 
up  the  first  flight,  and  the  smoke  was  suffocating,  I 
heard  Rupert  say,  '  Oh,  Henny,  you  good  girl,  shall  we 
ever  get  down  again?  '  I  couldn't  speak,  my  throat  was 
so  sore,  but  I  remember  thinking,  '  It's  like  going  up 
through  the  clouds  into  Heaven,  and  we  shall  find  Baby 
Cecil  there.'  But  after  that  it  got  rather  clearer,  be- 
cause the  fire  was  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house  then, 
and  when  we  got  to  the  top  we  stood  up,  and  found 
our  way  to  the  nursery  by  hearing  Baby  Cecil  scream. 

"  The  great  difficulty  was  to  get  him  down,  for  we 
couldn't  carry  him  and  keep  close  to  the  ground.  So 
I  said,  «  You  go  first  on  your  hands  and  knees  back- 
wards, and  tell  him  to  do  as  you  do,  and  I'll  come 
last,  so  that  he  may  see  me  doing  the  same  and  imi- 
tate me.'  Baby  was  very  good  about  it,  and  when  the 
heat  worried  him,  and  he  stopped,  Rupert  said,  '  Come 
on,  Baby,  or  Henny  will  run  over  you,'  and  he  scram- 
bled down  as  good  as  gold. 

"  And  when  we  got  to  the  door  the  people  began  to 
shout  and  to  cheer,  and  I  thought  they  would  have  torn 
Baby  to  bits.  It  made  me  very  giddy,  and  so  did  the 
clanging  of  those  dreadful  bells  ;  and  then  I  noticed 
that  Rupert  was  limping,  and  I  said,  «  Oh,  Rupert,  have 
you  hurt  your  knee?  '  and  he  said,  '  It's  nothing;  come 
to  the  Crown:  But  there  were  two  of  the  young  men 
from  Jones's  shop  there,  and  they  said,  '  Don't  you  walk 
and  hurt  your  knee,  sir  ;  we'll  take  you.'  And  they 
pushed  up  my  father's  armchair,  which  had  been  saved 


158  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

and  was  outside,  and  Rupert  sat  down,  I  believe,  be- 
cause he  could  not  stand.  Then  they  said,  '  There's 
room  for  you,  miss,'  and  Rupert  told  me  to  come,  and  I 
took  Baby  on  my  lap  ;  but  I  felt  so  ill  I  thought  I  should 
certainly  fall  out  when  they  lifted  us  up. 

"  The  way  the  people  cheered  made  me  very  giddy ; 
I  think  I  shall  always  feel  sick  when  I  hear  hurrahing 
now. 

"  Rupert  is  very  good  if  you're  ill.  He  looked  at  me 
and  said,  '  You're  the  bravest  girl  I  ever  knew ;  but  dont' 
faint  if  you  can  help  it,  or  Baby  will  fall  out.' 

"  I  didn't ;  and  I  wouldn't  have  fainted  when  we  got 
to  the  Crown  if  I  could  have  stopped  myself  by  anything 
I  could  do." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MR.    ROWE    ON    THE    SUBJECT. OUR    COUSIN.  - 

WESTON    GETS     INTO    PRINT.  —  THE    HARBOR'S 
MOUTH. WHAT    LIES    BEYOND. 

MR.  ROWE'S  anxiety  to  see  Rupert  and  Hen- 
rietta, and  to  "  take  the  liberty  of  expressing 
himself  "  about  their  having  saved  Baby  Cecil's 
life,  was  very  great,  but  the  interview  did  not 
take  place  for  some  time.  The  barge  Betsy 
took  two  voyages  to  Nine  Elms  and  home  again 
before  Henrietta  was  downstairs  and  allowed  to 
talk  about  the  fire. 

Rupert  refused  to  see  the  bargemaster  when 
he  called  to  ask  after  Henrietta ;  he  was  vexed 
because  people  made  a  fuss  about  the  affair, 
and  when  Rupert  was  vexed  he  was  not  gra- 
cious. When  Henrietta  got  better,  however, 
she  said,  "  We  ought  to  see  old  Rowe  and 
thank  him  for  his  kindness  to  Charlie ; "  so 
'59 


l6o  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

the  next  time  he  called,  we  all  went  into  the 
housekeeper's  room  to  see  him. 

He  was  very  much  pleased  and  excited, 
which  always  seemed  to  make  him  inclined  to 
preach.  He  set  forth  the  noble  motives  which 
must  have  moved  Rupert  and  Henrietta  to 
their  heroic  conduct  in  the  emergency,  so  that 
I  felt  more  proud  of  them  than  ever.  But 
Rupert  frowned,  and  said,  "  Nonsense,  Rowe, 
I'm  sure  I  never  thought  anything  of  the  kind  ; 
I  don't  believe  we  either  of  us  thought  any- 
thing at  all." 

But  Mr.  Rowe  had  not  served  seventeen 
years  in  the  Royal  Navy  to  be  put  down  when 
he  expounded  a  point  of  valor. 

"That's  where  it  is,  Master  Rupert,"  said  he. 
"  It  wouldn't  have  been  you  or  Miss  Henrietta 
either  if  you  had.  «  A  man  overboard,'  says 
you,  —  that's  enough  for  one  of  your  family,  sir. 
They  never  stops  to  think  '  Can  I  swim  ? '  but 
in  you  goes,  up  the  stairs  that  wouldn't  hold 
the  weight  of  a  new-born  babby,  and  right 
through  the  raging  flames." 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  Henrietta,  "that's  just 
what  Cook  and  all  kinds  of  people  will  say. 
But  it  was  the  front  stairs  that  were  on  fire. 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  l6l 

We  only  went  up  the  back  stairs,  and  they 
weren't  burning  at  all." 

The  bargemaster  smiled  in  reply.  But  it 
was  with  the  affability  of  superior  knowledge, 
and  I  feel  quite  sure  that  he  always  told  the 
story  (and  believed  it)  according  to  this  impos- 
sible version. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  the  fire  that 
our  cousin  called  at  the  Croivn.  He  had  never 
been  to  see  us  before,  and,  as  I  have  said,  we 
had  never  been  to  the  Castle.  But  the  next 
day  he  sent  a  close  carriage  for  Henrietta  and 
my  mother,  and  a  dog-cart  for  Rupert  and  me, 
and  brought  us  up  to  the  Castle.  We  were 
there  for  three  months. 

It  was  through  him  that  Rupert  went  to 
those  baths  abroad,  which  cured  his  knee  com- 
pletely. And  then,  because  my  mother  could 
not  afford  to  do  it,  he  sent  him  to  a  grander 
public  school  than  Doctor  Jessop's  old  grammar 
school,  and  Mr.  Johnson  sent  Thomas  Johnson 
there  too,  for  Tom  could  not  bear  to  be  parted 
from  Rupert,  and  his  father  never  refused  him 
anything. 

But  what  I  think  was  so  very  kind  of  our 
cousin  was  his  helping  me.  Rupert  and  Hen- 


1 62  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

rietta  had  been  a  credit  to  the  family,  but  I 
deserved  nothing.  I  had  only  run  away  in  the 
mean  hope  of  outshining  them,  and  had  made 
a  fool  of  myself,  whilst  l.hey  had  been  really 
great  in  doing  their  duty  at  home.  However, 
he  did  back  me  up  with  Mother  about  going  to 
sea,  and  got  me  on  board  the  training-ship 
Albion;  and  my  highest  hope  is  to  have  the 
chance  of  bringing  my  share  of  renown  to  my 
father's  name,  that  his  cousin  may  never  regret 
having  helped  me  to  my  heart's  desire. 

Fred  Johnson  and  I  are  very  good  friends, 
but  since  our  barge  voyage  we  have  never  been 
quite  so  intimate.  I  think  the  strongest  tie 
between  us  was  his  splendid  stories  of  the  Cap- 
tain, and  I  do  not  believe  in  them  now. 

Oddly  enough,  my  chief  friend  —  of  the 
whole  lot  —  is  Weston.  Rupert  always  said  I 
had  a  vulgar  taste  in  the  choice  of  friends,  so 
it  seems  curious  that  of  our  schoolmates  John- 
son should  be  his  friend  and  Weston  mine. 
For  Johnson's  father  is  only  a  canal-carrier, 
and  Weston  is  a  fellow  of  good  family. 

He  is  so  very  clever  !  And  I  have  such  a 
habit  of  turning  my  pockets  inside  out  for 
everybody  to  see,  that  I  admire  his  reticence  ; 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  163 

and  then,  though  he  is  so  ironical  with  himself, 
as  well  as  other  people,  he  has  very  fine  ideas 
and  ambitions,  and  very  noble  and  upright  prin- 
ciples, —  when  you  know  him  well. 

"  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good," 
and  the  fire  that  burned  down  our  house  got 
Weston  into  print  at  last. 

It  was  not  a  common  letter  either,  in  the 
"  correspondence "  part,  with  small  type,  and 
the  editor  not  responsible.  It  was  a  leading 
article,  printed  big,  and  it  was  about  the  fire 
and  Rupert  and  Henrietta.  Thomas  Johnson 
read  it  to  us,  and  we  did  not  know  who  wrote 
it ;  but  it  was  true,  and  in  good  taste.  After 
the  account  of  the  fire  came  a  quotation  from 
Horace : 

"  Fortes  creantur fortibus  et  bonis" 

And  Johnson  cried,  "That's  Weston,  depend 
upon  it !  He's  in  the  Weekly  Spectator  at 
last  !  " 

And  then,  to  my  utter  amazement,  came 
such  a  chronicle  of  the  valiant  deeds  of  Ru- 
pert's ancestors  as  Weston  could  only  have  got 
from  one  source.  What  had  furnished  his 
ready  pen  with  matter  for  a  comic  ballad  to 


164  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

punish  my  bragging  had  filled  it  also  to  do 
honor  to  Rupert  and  Henrietta's  real  bravery ; 
and  down  to  what  the  colonel  of  my  father's 
regiment  had  said  of  him,  it  was  all  there. 

Weston  came  to  see  me  the  other  day  at 
Dartmouth,  where  our  training-ship  Albion  lies, 
and  he  was  so  charmed  by  the  old  town,  with 
its  carved  and  gabled  houses,  and  its  luxuriant 
gardens  rich  with  pale-blossomed  laurels,  which 
no  frost  dwarfs,  and  crimson  fuchsias  gnarled 
with  age,  and  its  hill-embosomed  harbor,  where 
the  people  of  all  grades  and  ages,  and  of  both 
sexes,  flit  hither  and  thither  in  their  boats  as 
landlubbers  would  take  an  evening  stroll,  that 
I  felt  somewhat  justified  in  the  romantic  love 
I  have  for  the  place. 

And  when  we  lay  in  one  of  the  Albion  s  boats, 
rocking  up  and  down  in  that  soothing  swell 
which  freshens  the  harbor's  mouth,  Weston 
made  me  tell  him  all  about  the  lion  and  the 
silver  chain,  and  he  called  me  a  prig  for  saying 
so  often  that  I  did  not  believe  in  it  now.  I 
remember  he  said,  "  In  this  sleepy,  damp,  de- 
lightful Dartmouth,  who  but  a  prig  could  deny 
the  truth  of  a  poetical  dream  !  " 

He  declared  he  could  see  the  lion  in  a  cave  in 


A    GREAT    EMERGENCY.  165 

the  rock,  and  that  the  poor  beast  wanted  a  new 
sea-green  ribbon. 

Weston  speaks  so  much  more  cleverly  than 
I  can,  that  I  could  not  explain  to  him  then  that 
I  am  still  but  too  apt  to  dream  !  But  the  har- 
bor's mouth  is  now  only  the  beginning  of  my 
visions,  which  stretch  far  over  the  sea  beyond, 
and  over  the  darker  line  of  that  horizon  where 
the  ships  come  and  go. 

I  hope  it  is  not  wrong  to  dream.  My  father 
was  so  modest  as  well  as  ambitious,  so  good  as 
well  as  so  gallant,  that  I  would  rather  die  than 
disgrace  him  by  empty  conceit  and  unprofitable 
hopes. 

Weston  is  a  very  religious  fellow,  though  he 
does  not  "  cant  "  at  all.  When  I  was  going 
away  to  Dartmouth,  and  he  saw  me  off  (for  we 
were  great  friends),  one  of  the  last  things  he 
said  to  me  was,  "  I  say,  don't  leave  off  saying 
your  prayers,  you  know." 

I  haven't,  and  Itold  him  so  this  last  time. 
I  often  pray  that  if  ever  I  am  great,  I  may  be 
good  too  ;  and  sometimes  I  pray  that  if  I  try 
hard  to  be  good  God  will  let  me  be  great  as 
well. 

The  most    wonderful  thing  was  old  Rowe's 


1 66  A    GREAT    EMERGENCY. 

taking  a  cheap  ticket  and  coming  down  to  see 
me  last  summer.  I  never  can  regret  my  voy- 
age with  him  in  the  Betsy,  for  I  did  thoroughly 
enjoy  it ;  though  I  often  think  how  odd  it  is 
that  in  my  vain,  jealous,  wild-goose  chase  after 
adventures,  I  missed  the  chance  of  distinguish- 
ing myself  in  the  only  Great  Emergency  which 
has  yet  occurred  in  our  family. 


THE    END. 


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The  Fairy  Folk  of  Blue  Hill. 

A  story  of  folk  -  lore  by  LILY  F.  WESSELHOEFT,  author  of 
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A  new  volume  by  MRS.  WESSELHOEFT,  well  known  as  one  of  our  best  writers  for 
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read  her  delightful  books.  This  book  ought  to  interest  and  appeal  to  every  child 
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Miss  Cray's   Girls;  or,  Summer  Days  in  the  Scottish 
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A  pleasantly  told  story  of  a  summer  trip  through  Scotland,  somewhat  out  of  the 
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pupils,  through  the  Trossachs  to  Oban,  through  the  Caledonian  Canal  to  Inver- 
ness, and  as  far  north  as  Brora,  missing  no  part  of  the  matchless  scenery  and  no 
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and  Abbotsford,  the  enjoyment  of  the  party  and  the  interest  of  the  reader  never 
lag.  With  all  the  sightseeing,  not  the  least  interesting  features  of  the  book  are 
the  glimpses  of  Scottish  home  life  which  the  party  from  time  to  time  are  fortun?  .e 
enough  to  be  able  to  enjoy  through  the  kindly  hospitality  of  friends. 

Published  by   L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY, 
196  Summer  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


